The Coming Storm

I'm just shy of crazy.


It's an uncomfortable place to be.  Knowing how close you are to really, truly losing it.  My toes are testing the water today.  It might not be so bad to just jump in.  It could save an ungracious fall.

This morning, on my way to make pancakes, I walked past the quilt I am working on for the hospital benefit, spread all over the kitchen table.  Right away CIM piped up.

"Oh my gosh, that is so ugly.  You've got to do something."

RIM:  It's fine.

CIM:  Are you kidding.  What's with that border fabric?

RIM:  I'm sure it will be fine once it's done.

CIM:  You always say that, and it's never true.  Remember the time we painted the living room chartreuse and I kept saying how bad it looked and you kept saying, "Just wait until we get the tape off,"  and then, "Just wait until we get the furniture back in here."  Remember that?  That was a disaster.

RIM:  Why do you always bring that up?  What can't you just let that go?  Every time you get the least bit jumpy, I have to hear about the living room again.

CIM:  You just don't like it when I'm right.

RIM:  (under her breath)  Luckily that rarely happens.

CIM:  I heard that.  I'm standing right. here.

RIM:  (with a huff)  Look.  It will be fine.  You've just stared at it too long.  Let's just keep going.

CIM:  I know you think I'm crazy, but I know what I'm talking about.

RIM:  (not even trying to hide her doubts, rolls her eyes)  Whatever.

CIM:  Just because I've had a few questionable moments in the past, you think everything I say is crazy.

RIM:  I'm done having this conversation. 

CIM:  I'm just getting started.

RIM:  (silent)

CIM:  I know you can hear me.

RIM:  (silent)

CIM:  And you know I'm right.

RIM:  (still silent, but clamping her jaw)

CIM:  Fine.  But you're going to come crawling back here in about a week, begging for a maelstrom.  Don't say I didn't warn you.  Then we'll see who's crazy.