Mushy cereal

I’m immobilized on a bean bag chair in green fleece capris, my favorite yellow baby tee and with only one cowboy boot on. Cute, right? I don’t even have the energy to get off the chair, let alone pull on the second boot.

One side of my mouth is slack, half my lips sloping downward. I look frightful. It’s nothing serious, just the effects of the local anesthetic from my root canal earlier today. I find it funny that the effect of the Novocain wearing off is causing more pain than the root canal itself.

I desperately want to eat so I thought I would venture out in the cold and grab a milkshake from McDonalds. I would really like a sheesh kabab and some naan, but seeing as I’m limited to mushy food, I guess a chocolate milkshake will have to do. Go the route of the Americans. Become a native.

I never make it out the door and down the block to those shiny golden arches. This pain is killing me.

So now, I’m camped out on the couch with a bowl of Honey Nut Oats (with peaches, no less) drowning in milk. One thing you must know about me – cereal is my specialty, and I don’t like mushy cereal. My cereal has to be crisp and crunchy. The milk is just an accessory, not a way of life, when it comes to cereal.

This whole experience makes me reconsider some of the things that I take for granted. Before you roll your eyes, I know that’s a blanket comment, but just hear me out. With all the moaning and groaning, and all the hatred for tourists/crazy cab drivers/inflationary pressures/heavy work loads that comes part and parcel with living in New York City, I’m glad for this brief come-back-down-to-earth pull. That’s the extent of my lecture. I leave you to make of it what you may.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go add more milk to this cereal mush and I have to refute Zoha’s insistence that my cheek is swollen. [Its fat, my dear. Its ok, I’ve come to terms with it, you can stop euphemizing!]