The day Robb broke his back, I was supposed to start a hand-spinning class. When I called the store to tell them that I wouldn't be attending, and told them the reason, the person on the other end of the phone replied in a way that indicated to me that she was only half-listening, and that she was probably also updating her Facebook status, and picking dirt out from under her fingernails.
Me (trying to hold emotions in check): "I signed up for the spinning class that starts tonight, and I won't be able to attend, because my partner just broke his back, and we're at the Emergency Room. Could someone please call me later about rescheduling or about a refund?"
She (in a distant sing-song voice): "Oh ... ... ... okay."
Me (thinking): don't-start-crying. don't-start-crying. don't-start-crying.
I did go to the class last week, and spent most of the two hours right on the verge of tears. It was pathetic. I was pathetic.
Earlier this summer, I developed a sudden and violent allergy to tomatoes.
(I may or may not have developed an allergy to every single food on this planet, because I literally cannot eat anything without experiencing horrible mouth-pain. I haven't written a lot about this, because my doctors and I cannot really figure this out. Also because it makes me look like a Total Crazy Person. Plus which, it sucks.)
We had an incredible bounty of Sun Gold cherry tomatoes ripen in our garden, and Robb couldn't possible eat them all. I decided to oven-dry, and then freeze them, in the hopes that the allergy might spontaneously go away, and that I could eat them in the future.
I figured I could save them up for another time, when I might actually enjoy eating them.