Good morning!
Today I have to go to the doctor's office to see when I get to have my brain worked on. This should be fun. The appointment was originally scheduled for the 29th, which is my birthday, but I can't wait that long knowing that my brain contains a huge bubble...and that bubble could burst if I should be annoyed to the point of anger, frustration or passion.
Even if I DID have a man to anger, frustrate or impassion me, I would be too afraid to do anything and this is no way to live. I have enough trouble keeping my mind on point when I'm being passionate as it is. I could be going along, all playful and sexy...and then all of a sudden, without invitation, I could think about the Cubs and the game they won the other day. They won 12 to 1, it was a one sided slug fest. That makes me happy, but does nothing to enhance any amorous feelings I may have. I suppose I could pretend that I'm doing the pitcher, but that hasn't worked since pro baseball players have gotten younger than my own kids. Oh well, there's always the old-timer's game.
My friend and I are opening a business and before we can do that, we have some personal stuff to take care of so the quicker I get my brain fixed, the quicker we can start looking for a building to buy. My friend is still trying to finish her homework from her spring semester Luckily, she's taking classes that I took years ago and since it's my short term memory that has been attacked, I can remember those classes. I know what mitochondria is and I can even remember what varicella is. I can help her all the way through science, so she's good as long as she doesn't take any math higher than geometry...after that I must leave the room.
I always helped my kids with their homework until the inevitable day when the "smart one" graduated junior high. A thousand college degrees in nursing won't do a bit of good if the task at hand is calculus. To me, that sounds like something that would plug an artery, not solve a problem. But somehow that kid became an attorney so I guess I didn't do as badly as he thinks I did.
Oh, guess what? I know that you know I'm a flake...but did you know that I'm also an idiot? Well, it's true. Yesterday I was cleaning an oven...all of it. I started out by pulling it away from the wall, cleaning the floor, the sides of the oven and the walls surrounding it. Next I needed to clean the door so I took that off. A young man stood next to me startled and asked, "Can you put that back on?"
"DUH!", I responded, "I took it off, didn't I?"
Well, a can of oven cleaner and two hours later, I carried that 30 pound door (I swear it weighed more than the rest of the stupid oven) back inside from the yard where I had cleaned it and attempted to put it back. It wasn't like most ovens where the latches point down...these latches were at a 90 degree angle which baffled me. Unfortunately, being baffled is my baseline so it didn't stop me one little bit. I went to put that sucker back and, long story short, I dropped it on my foot. My friend happened to walk in 4 seconds after I did it and found me standing there, white and eyes wide open, slapping my self in the face with both hands. The pain kept me from speaking for a moment so I pointed to the door and used my hands to explain the reason for my silence. If I opened my mouth, I would have screamed and I like to think I have more self control than that.
Anyway, soon I found my voice again and I told her what happened. When she asked which foot, I told her, "The one that's bleeding." It's amazing how much blood blunt force trauma can evoke. I would have though one would need a knife to produce as much blood as was leaving my body through my right big toe. I guess most people wouldn't know that unless they were Joran Van Der Sloot or some other psychopathic killer.
Well, I have to hobble away and help get the homework done and then, if I'm really, really stupid, I can try to put the door back on the oven.
:)
Today I have to go to the doctor's office to see when I get to have my brain worked on. This should be fun. The appointment was originally scheduled for the 29th, which is my birthday, but I can't wait that long knowing that my brain contains a huge bubble...and that bubble could burst if I should be annoyed to the point of anger, frustration or passion.
Even if I DID have a man to anger, frustrate or impassion me, I would be too afraid to do anything and this is no way to live. I have enough trouble keeping my mind on point when I'm being passionate as it is. I could be going along, all playful and sexy...and then all of a sudden, without invitation, I could think about the Cubs and the game they won the other day. They won 12 to 1, it was a one sided slug fest. That makes me happy, but does nothing to enhance any amorous feelings I may have. I suppose I could pretend that I'm doing the pitcher, but that hasn't worked since pro baseball players have gotten younger than my own kids. Oh well, there's always the old-timer's game.
My friend and I are opening a business and before we can do that, we have some personal stuff to take care of so the quicker I get my brain fixed, the quicker we can start looking for a building to buy. My friend is still trying to finish her homework from her spring semester Luckily, she's taking classes that I took years ago and since it's my short term memory that has been attacked, I can remember those classes. I know what mitochondria is and I can even remember what varicella is. I can help her all the way through science, so she's good as long as she doesn't take any math higher than geometry...after that I must leave the room.
I always helped my kids with their homework until the inevitable day when the "smart one" graduated junior high. A thousand college degrees in nursing won't do a bit of good if the task at hand is calculus. To me, that sounds like something that would plug an artery, not solve a problem. But somehow that kid became an attorney so I guess I didn't do as badly as he thinks I did.
Oh, guess what? I know that you know I'm a flake...but did you know that I'm also an idiot? Well, it's true. Yesterday I was cleaning an oven...all of it. I started out by pulling it away from the wall, cleaning the floor, the sides of the oven and the walls surrounding it. Next I needed to clean the door so I took that off. A young man stood next to me startled and asked, "Can you put that back on?"
"DUH!", I responded, "I took it off, didn't I?"
Well, a can of oven cleaner and two hours later, I carried that 30 pound door (I swear it weighed more than the rest of the stupid oven) back inside from the yard where I had cleaned it and attempted to put it back. It wasn't like most ovens where the latches point down...these latches were at a 90 degree angle which baffled me. Unfortunately, being baffled is my baseline so it didn't stop me one little bit. I went to put that sucker back and, long story short, I dropped it on my foot. My friend happened to walk in 4 seconds after I did it and found me standing there, white and eyes wide open, slapping my self in the face with both hands. The pain kept me from speaking for a moment so I pointed to the door and used my hands to explain the reason for my silence. If I opened my mouth, I would have screamed and I like to think I have more self control than that.
Anyway, soon I found my voice again and I told her what happened. When she asked which foot, I told her, "The one that's bleeding." It's amazing how much blood blunt force trauma can evoke. I would have though one would need a knife to produce as much blood as was leaving my body through my right big toe. I guess most people wouldn't know that unless they were Joran Van Der Sloot or some other psychopathic killer.
Well, I have to hobble away and help get the homework done and then, if I'm really, really stupid, I can try to put the door back on the oven.
:)
posted by Meg Kelso | 6:07 AM
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