I read that cinnamon was really great for you, rich in antioxidants and reduces the risk of heart disease.
A teaspoon a day, is all you need.
Great, I think, as I head to the store.
In flight, despite trying to be more mindful after the lost key incident, am deep in thought, listing all words for an essay I’m penning that mean chaotic: disorderly, disorganized, topsy-turvy, tangled.
Now in the store, I mosey around looking for their spice section…in an uproar, messy, frenetic…finally asking a young man, where the synonym is.
He doesn’t answer me. I ask again. This time I add, you know, it’s a spice…muddled, jumbled, in disarray.
He still doesn’t respond.
“I’m pretty sure you have it,” I say, “since you’re such a big store.”
He finally says, “Just a minute,” while he consults a fellow worker.
Confused, unhinged, NUTS!
She comes over and says, “What is it that you want?”
I’m now losing patience.
“Synonym,” I say with a sigh, “you put it in cookies and oatmeal.”
“I think what you want is cinnamon.”
Well, I guess I made a little error, but here’s the good news.
Rather than saying, boy Susannah, you’re an ass, I said, boy Susannah…you’re just a writer.
How’s that for progress.