I was all ready to write about this cool new toy I bought at Safeway. It's an orange salad spinner. What I mean is, it spins your salad for you, and it's orange. It doesn't spin oranges, although I suppose it could.
I was going to tell you how it much fun it is to pull the handle and watch the water fly off the lettuce, through the holes in the basket, and into the bottom of the bowl.
I was going to tell you about the cool button on the top that you merely touch with a light, delicate motion to make it stop-short on a dime, and my heavens how did they do that?
I was also going to mention that even though it was expensive, I rationalized spending $19.99 on this thing because I figured it would more than pay for itself in the long run, since now I can buy loose lettuce and wash it and spin it dry, instead of buying the expensive bags just for the convenience of instant, dry salad.
So, I was all ready to write a lovely, poetic ode to my new salad spinner, but then my husband popped his head into my office and said "your dog just threw up."
And apparently, we had a deal, when I begged for the dog 7 years ago, in the middle of three little children and a chaotic life, that I would take care of her. Apparently I promised. Sort of like I supposedly promised that we'd never buy a mini-van. Which we haven't.
You know, one of those promises you make when you're young, figuring it won't matter in the long run, because eventually it's all water under the bridge and no one will remember you actually said that kind of stuff that doesn't matter anyway.
Well, my husband remembered. I tried to harrumph and sigh heavily, but then I walked into the living room, and the poor dog walked up to me with her head hung low and submissive and apologetic, 'cause she probably has a tummy ache, after all, and needs her mom.
So of course I cleaned it up, patted her head, and told her not to worry. And of course I said kind words to her and let her follow me around for the next hour, squeezing her large body in between me and whatever table or chair I was next to. I'm not sure why that comforts her, but it does.
I mean, really what else am I supposed to do? I'm certainly not in the mood for salad any more.