A 782-word aside
I decided to place the orange juice cartons into my backpack. I took them out and satisfactorily slide them between my Nous, Les Jeunes and Trigonometry book. It looked really nice there, all nestled and everything. I knew it was going to be heavy, but the initial heft nearly threw me sideways. After some computation, I realized I just added eight pounds onto my back. I adjusted my shoulders to accommodate the extra load. With the sleeve of Albertson’s French bread (baked daily!) tucked in the complimentary paper and plastic grocery bags I had in my left hand, I started for home.
I tore out a piece of the gooey loaf and tentatively chewed. My braces were tightened a few days ago, so I had to tentatively chew everything. It twanged a sore tooth just then, and I waited for the pain to ease. I tucked the chunk in my left cheek pouch and waited until the crust was soggy enough to recommence my gnawing. It was good. I thought of Parisian bread and the baguettes in my French book. I remembered their ends were twisted to a point rather than rounded off. They were also sort of burnt.
Ignoring the increasing weight on my shoulders, I ripped another chunk of gourmet bread and stuffed it in. The first piece was still melting in there. I took a deep breath and chewed furiously. It was worth it. I swallowed and ate more.
The cashier had told me to stay dry. I looked at the sky and wished it to rain. Then, I thought I felt a drop on my face, but that might have just been the sweat dripping down to my nose.
The cereal boxes in the bag with the bread were light, and I didn’t have to switch hands when my left arm got tired. I felt smart for distributing the weight so effectively. The padded shoulder straps were doing their job so far. My backpack stayed reasonably tolerable.
Then it wasn’t. The straps were making grooves in my collarbones. Every step I took seemed to chisel them in further. Once I was aware of that, I began to notice all these other bits of aches all over. I pulled off another piece and made myself enjoy it.
I was getting kind of thirsty too, with the walking and the groceries. I remembered the bottle of water I had in my pack. The empty Crystal Geyser bottle I finished mod 18. I adjusted the many dangling straps, but just managed to shift more weight onto my left side.
I picked out a point a few blocks ahead of me, a brown trashcan on the corner, and wondered if I could truly make it there. I saw it creep closer and closer but it was still so far away. I ate another piece and tried to smell it. I did and yes, it does taste better. So I smelled and ate some more. Maybe I couldn’t reach it because there were so many of them, each garbage bin just sitting there, all alone on their own street corners. I wondered if I could finish the one-pound loaf by the time I got to one, so I could throw away the wrapping and not take it home with me. I had about half of it left, but I decided I could make it. I chewed some more.
The weight started to numb my upper arms. I could just imagine the miles and miles of blood vessels getting squeezed and clogged. I had to try twice before the bits of bread would willingly go down. It was getting quite dark now, and indeed, sprays of droplets blew by. The clouds were thick and thin at some places and I wondered if the thin spots released rain. I had hoped to take a picture of a sunset, but realized I wouldn’t have the chance. I didn’t have the chance to do lots of things today, I reminded myself. I bit off another chunk. The weight was unbearable. I looked at the clouds and it didn’t help. It was still heavy. My tongue had trouble moving due to the bits of half-chewed bread stuck all over my mouth.
I stopped.
I took off my backpack, opened it, took out the carton of Tropicana, and drank. I drank and drank and drank. When it was empty, I drank the other one too. Drank until I couldn’t, and then drank some more. After I finished the last drop, I chucked the cartons off somewhere where an eighteen-wheeler would likely run over them. I picked up the half loaf of French bread and backpack.
Then, I ran home.
I decided to place the orange juice cartons into my backpack. I took them out and satisfactorily slide them between my Nous, Les Jeunes and Trigonometry book. It looked really nice there, all nestled and everything. I knew it was going to be heavy, but the initial heft nearly threw me sideways. After some computation, I realized I just added eight pounds onto my back. I adjusted my shoulders to accommodate the extra load. With the sleeve of Albertson’s French bread (baked daily!) tucked in the complimentary paper and plastic grocery bags I had in my left hand, I started for home.
I tore out a piece of the gooey loaf and tentatively chewed. My braces were tightened a few days ago, so I had to tentatively chew everything. It twanged a sore tooth just then, and I waited for the pain to ease. I tucked the chunk in my left cheek pouch and waited until the crust was soggy enough to recommence my gnawing. It was good. I thought of Parisian bread and the baguettes in my French book. I remembered their ends were twisted to a point rather than rounded off. They were also sort of burnt.
Ignoring the increasing weight on my shoulders, I ripped another chunk of gourmet bread and stuffed it in. The first piece was still melting in there. I took a deep breath and chewed furiously. It was worth it. I swallowed and ate more.
The cashier had told me to stay dry. I looked at the sky and wished it to rain. Then, I thought I felt a drop on my face, but that might have just been the sweat dripping down to my nose.
The cereal boxes in the bag with the bread were light, and I didn’t have to switch hands when my left arm got tired. I felt smart for distributing the weight so effectively. The padded shoulder straps were doing their job so far. My backpack stayed reasonably tolerable.
Then it wasn’t. The straps were making grooves in my collarbones. Every step I took seemed to chisel them in further. Once I was aware of that, I began to notice all these other bits of aches all over. I pulled off another piece and made myself enjoy it.
I was getting kind of thirsty too, with the walking and the groceries. I remembered the bottle of water I had in my pack. The empty Crystal Geyser bottle I finished mod 18. I adjusted the many dangling straps, but just managed to shift more weight onto my left side.
I picked out a point a few blocks ahead of me, a brown trashcan on the corner, and wondered if I could truly make it there. I saw it creep closer and closer but it was still so far away. I ate another piece and tried to smell it. I did and yes, it does taste better. So I smelled and ate some more. Maybe I couldn’t reach it because there were so many of them, each garbage bin just sitting there, all alone on their own street corners. I wondered if I could finish the one-pound loaf by the time I got to one, so I could throw away the wrapping and not take it home with me. I had about half of it left, but I decided I could make it. I chewed some more.
The weight started to numb my upper arms. I could just imagine the miles and miles of blood vessels getting squeezed and clogged. I had to try twice before the bits of bread would willingly go down. It was getting quite dark now, and indeed, sprays of droplets blew by. The clouds were thick and thin at some places and I wondered if the thin spots released rain. I had hoped to take a picture of a sunset, but realized I wouldn’t have the chance. I didn’t have the chance to do lots of things today, I reminded myself. I bit off another chunk. The weight was unbearable. I looked at the clouds and it didn’t help. It was still heavy. My tongue had trouble moving due to the bits of half-chewed bread stuck all over my mouth.
I stopped.
I took off my backpack, opened it, took out the carton of Tropicana, and drank. I drank and drank and drank. When it was empty, I drank the other one too. Drank until I couldn’t, and then drank some more. After I finished the last drop, I chucked the cartons off somewhere where an eighteen-wheeler would likely run over them. I picked up the half loaf of French bread and backpack.
Then, I ran home.
