a.k.a. Good Food

JANUARY 2
I shifted the grocery bags in my arms and pushed open the door to our catering kitchen, propelled by the prospect of a hot cup of coffee.  It had been four hundred and eight minutes since my last blast of caffeine and my brain was getting fuzzy.
Not so fuzzy, however, that I failed to notice something wrong inside.  Pots bubbled quietly on the stove sending up clouds of tantalizing aromas; the rich scent of chicken stock mingled with the tang of freshly chopped garlic and herbs, while the oven contributed its own special perfume of baking rolls.  That was all good.  My business partner however, was multi-tasking, talking on the phone while she waved a 12-inch chef’s knife in the air like a blonde samurai, pausing only to deliver the occasional murderous wallop to a pile of defenseless vegetables.  Abby had wedged the phone between her ear and her shoulder, leaving both her hands free  – one for wild gesturing, the other for more lethal action.
As I turned to drop the bags on the counter, the first of my New Year’s resolutions – the one to reduce my stress level — was in imminent jeopardy.  Not only was Abby – normally an icon for serenity — behaving erratically, but a uniformed cop was pouring the last of the coffee into of one of my mugs – the one that said “That light at the end of the tunnel is an express train headed your way.”

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My body was pinned down on the mattress.  I struggled frantically to free myself from my attacker but I wasn’t strong enough.  I could feel his breath coming closer, warm and fetid.  Instinctively I knew I was going to be poisoned.  I could feel myself panicking and I groaned as I thrashed my head from side to side, struggling to free my arms and legs, trying to escape the inevitable.  Why hadn’t I listened to Abby?  Desperate, I squinted open my eyes so I could identify my assailant should I be more fortunate than Irini and survive.
A large golden-furred snout lay on the pillow next to my head, warm breath floated across my face.  Glancing down, I saw two forelegs draped across my chest and two rear legs pinning my knees to the mattress.
“Bailey.  Roll over.  Move.”  The crushing weight didn’t shift, but now a tail whipped my ankles.  “Bailey.  Breakfast.”
That did it.  As the ninety pounds of muscle and fur lifted off me, I couldn’t help but think it was a sad comment that the only one sharing my bed was a dog!  Maybe Abby was right: it was time to start dating again.  I promised myself I’d think about it…after coffee.