Tuesday, November 14, 2006
'Tis the season of ...
Dear Marc, I don't know about you, but winter came round to hit me in the ribs before slapping my hands crazy dry. My hands are so chapped and sad that they've become a topic of conversation in my house. Even worse, my dry hands have ignited fights.
Concerned about their sorry state, A murmured on and on about the benefits of hand lotion while I was working. I was striving to meet a tight deadline and lashed out against him, saying he should love my hands unconditionally and treat them with respect. My hands should never have to listen to the harsh words my beloved was spreading left and right.
A pressed his lips tight and not one more word was spoken on this topic.
Two days later, we were in a taxi, going home from a nice dinner party.
Romance was in the air and A took my hand in his.
Suddenly, a light laughter rose from my right side. It was A.
"Oh Emi, I touched your hand, and it was so hard not to say anything, I had to hold myself back! Your hands were so incredibly dry. But then I realized you were wearing knitted gloves. The relief!".
From now on, sleeping with lotioned hands in mittens.