Eating chocolate blind
I was chatting with a teacher at one of my schools early one morning when I noticed his eyes darting back and forth between my eyes and my chin.
“You have a little bit of chocolate right there,” he said, pointing to the nether-region of my face.
Embarrassed to a) be a chunky girl with food on her face and b) be a human being with anything on her face, how hard is it to look in the mirror?, I nodded knowingly – of course there’s chocolate on my face - quickly wiped my hand across my chin and replied, “Oh yeah.” Giggle giggle. I can’t believe I left the house like this, though not surprising. I love chocolate. And feel bad when I eat it, so often consume it in odd ways. Quickly. Eyes closed.
But as we parted ways, I perplexedly walked to the studio. I hadn’t eaten chocolate in… days? When was the last time? A pudding. That was like, last Wednesday. Did I leave the pudding lid in bed and roll in it last night? In a stress-coma, did I not only swap chocolate-peanut butter with my lotion, but proceed to moisturize with it?
And then I had the same feeling as when I walked home from Schuba’s one night, after a few drinks, and stood in front of a business on Southport for ten-minutes staring at the words painted on its window – Blind Cleaning Service. Wow! That’s such a wonderful thing they’re doing, giving jobs to people who can’t see. And what an undertaking, cleaning without the ability to see! I wonder how they do that. How do they see where to dust? If they’ve gotten all the lasagna out of the pan? That training must be fascinating and really in-depth. I’m not sure I’d hire a blind maid. But kudos to people who do.
The next morning, I popped up in bed and exclaimed, “Ohhhhh! Blind Cleaning Service. Like blinds. On a window.”
And that’s how I felt when I realized the teacher had said, “You have a little bit of chalk right there.”
What kind of life does one lead when she’s told at 8AM on a Thursday that she has chocolate on her face and it doesn’t phase or surprise her?