I missed you so much. Do you want to break up?
Once upon a time, I was all ready to unleash the deepest powers of my vagina with a zucchini, but then my vagina started to bleed, and so the era of power was short-lived, and now it seems extremely far away.
|Polyamorous Zucchini Sexting.|
Once upon a time there was a well-adjusted fridge with a manageable amount of leaked soy sauce, and spilled mustard. The well-adjusted fridge was filled with well-adjusted food that suggested that my clients François and Marie truly loved themselves, and each other, and this I do not doubt. For example, there were six different kinds of homemade preserves, and a glass Tupperware of a thawing and clearly nourishing cream soup, and abundant jars and containers of almonds, and sunflower seeds, and walnuts, and fresh, inviting vegetables, including two large zucchinis which I photographed and texted to Sexy Motorcycle George and Freshly Divorced Love of 2009 who I now Call Sexy Motorcycle the Second, and I call this sort of texting, Polyamorous Zucchini Sexting.
|The well-adjusted fridge|
Once upon a time, my right knee was swollen and covered with baking soda. Broken Delicate Miniature Horse Ornament Client Linda did not notice that my eyes were swollen too, and also slightly bruised. Before I could scour her mildewed shower grout with a toothbrush, Linda asked me to examine her scalp to see if it looked like she was going bald, and as far as I could tell, she did not seem any more bald than usual, but I did not think this was the best way of putting things, and thus with very vague tact, I said, “Well, we all lose our hair in the summer. Just like your cat.” Linda’s cat’s hair was all over the shelves of her fridge. Linda was afraid that her hair falling out is the sign of some terrible disease. On a post-it stuck to her computer, Linda had scrawled a list entitled, "Erica needs," and my needs were summarized as baking soda, dish soap, vinegar, sponges, paper towel, and a toothbrush. I think if you told me you had a cat, and that its hair was all over the bottom of your fridge, and that you watched golf, all this could cure some of my undying love, though my sad and empty fridge, however free of cauliflower chunks, is certainly not that well-adjusted either.
*Names and crucial identifying details have been altered due to excellent professional boundaries. Send your letters to me, or to Vincent, or to Oprah. The top-secret email address is ericaschmidt85(at)gmail(dot)com.
p.s. Vincent is my therapist and I have that thing where you love your therapist and Vincent comes back from vacation tomorrow.
Once upon a time, I was all ready to unleash the deepest powers of my vagina with a zucchini, but then
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Dear Vincent, If Oprah does not invite you to sit in her decadent plushy green chairs
in the middle of the Oprah Forest to discuss your beautiful soul's beautiful hero's journey,
it's possible this might be a blessing. It's possible you might just be spared. Love, Erica.
I just had a reasonably life-changing orgasm with a medium-sized yellow zucchini
that was on sale in a basket,
5 for $1,
on the outskirts of marché Jean Talon.