"It's awfully sticky...."

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billybofh
Posted by billybofh on Sun 21 Jan 07, 10:27 PM

"Yes, I melted some mozzarella through it." I replied as I dropped her face into the sauce again to let her taste it.

Sometimes I wish she hadn't decided to stop using her arms. But I am wary of raising the subject after what happened the last time.

Just best to plop her face into the dinner bowl and let her get on with it. She seems happy enough.

Though she does get upset if I forget to cool things a little first and scald her. It's the eyelids that are really the problem. They don't seem designed to protect against fish fingers. And they're really rubbish against hot soup too.

In any case, I'm sure she'll start using her arms again soon. It'll just be a fad, like the screaming was.

At least this is quiet.

Apart from when I forget about the hot soup of course.

I look over to see if her sister is awake yet. She's still asleep though. Or at least, still not moving.

I'm not sure how long someone doesn't move for before you should worry that they're perhaps a bit dead. I'm sure she isn't though. I don't think she'd have bothered putting on her "I'm the champ!" t-shirt if she was dead.

Although perhaps she put it on first.

Hmmm.

Her sister only came to stay after she began to claim that she was the world champion hula-hooper. And she was really claiming it quite vigorously. To strangers usually.

I'd seen her try and hula-hoop and I must admit I doubted the validity of her claim, but I stayed quiet. Even whe she moved in and we had to re-arrange the furniture so that she could hula-hoop in the sitting room.

I found that it's really quite hard to play darts when someone is hula-hooping in the middle of the room between you and the board. Though I did my best. She hardly seemed to notice when a dart went astray. Just span round a little faster with that pained grimace that she shares with her sister.

I lifted my beloveds face out of the sauce again just to make sure she could breath. The sauce dribbled out of her mouth back into the bowl. I plopped her back down and just hoped for the best.

Suddenly her sister moved.

Well, slid. To the side slightly.

I think it's a good sign.

I begin to sing. A happy song. A song about working arms and other such joyfulness.

I bang my fist on the table to punctuate each word.

Bang!

Haha!

Bang!

Soon it will be time for the dishes to be done. I'm guessing it will be my turn. Again.

Perhaps if I nail some string to her hands and elbows I can work her like a puppet. If I prop her up against the sink then I can operate her from the sofa. I'm not sure much of the glassware would survive though. And given her history with knives, I might have to do some of the cutlery myself.

But still! A project!

I fetch some crayons and graph paper and begin to plan. Tomorrow will be a new day! A day filled with a new project! And nails!


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