My mother and I were out together, and suddenly she wanted to talk about my novel. Specifically, she wanted to know where I was stuck and why, which was interesting because she never wants to talk about my work beyond whether or not I’m actually doing any. She was getting hung up on a point of geographical confusion, so I finally brought out the tablet to pull up my map, so she could visualize the setup I was describing. Unfortunately, Varda was having a bit of a mood.
I started rummaging through my bag for something, anything, small enough to fit inside the absurd pinprick-sized hole to hit the reset button, dumping my world onto the table for all to see. Keychain: not helpful. Pen: much too blunt. Dammit, this one’s too big too. How many notebooks do I really need to keep in here? Headphone jack: also far too blunt. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Items kept emerging onto the table.
Suddenly, Loki’s tiny LEGO helmet was sitting there between us. My mom looked down. Blinked.
“Why… do you carry Loki’s helmet around in your purse?”
Wordlessly I proceeded to produce Loki himself, his sceptre (also just slightly too blunt; I tried it,) Thor, LEGO Mjölnir, and Thor’s winged helmet, setting the two brothers up across from each other with all of their gear on. My mom continued to stare, then repeated,
“Why?”
I said to her quite calmly, “You never know when they’re going to need to throw down, Mother.”
My almost 70-year-old mother blinked at me for a moment, then cocked her head to the side and made the universal face of, “Seems legit.”
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On a completely unrelated note, I could use wishes of good luck sent my way today, though I’m afraid I must remain cryptic about the what for at present.
Also, for the curious among you, I eventually thought of hitting the reset button with the post of my earring.
Autistic Wordpainter 