oranges piss me off
i'm under the weather this week, mostly in the throat region, a condition utterly uneased by the maniacle screaming woman across the street who kept me up last night (and whose throat is probably in worse shape than mine is).
no, i'm in no mood to be at work today. what better way to comfort my throat and my head than to nosh on a juicy orange?
i'm hesitant - that elusive peel.
but i buy one anyway and hope for the best. sure enough, a fingernail under the peel yields a mere fragment of aromatic flesh and i know then and there what i'm in for.
i could fight it, but the battle could take time. the clock is ticking and the rind is sticking to the anterior of my fingernails.
so fuck it, i get the knife. a pitiful blade, a butterknife disguised as a chef's knife. but it does the job: six beautiful wedges. and one bisected seed. the glistening juice makes my throat even sorer in anticipation of sweet relief.
back to my desk i go. wedges are not as ideal as peeled sections for casual desk snacking. but what can i do?
i put the first wedge in my mouth, grab it's corner to pull away the rind...
but it won't budge.
and i'm left with an orange rind for a very drooly mouth.
juice is dripping down my face
down my hand
and down my arm
beneath the sleeve of my polar fleece jumper (would you believe i moved to London and didn't bring a single sweater?)
i finally pull the peel away, too covered with shame and juice to enjoy the morsel of orange left in my mouth.
(god i hope nobody is watching)
