It’s the end of a not so merry week in this murky month of May. The weather Gods have not been kind to many people in the United States. I guess we should be happy not to have volcanoes, flowing lava, tsunamis, mud slides, blizzards or raging forest fires.
Think positive, always think positive, a political pal (currently in jail), once preached to me.
The early wake-up had me in a sullen mood from the start. First stop, drop off a package going back to Amazon. We don’t put collars on our dogs when there are no ingredients listed for the product.
Next, the audiologist for a checkup of my hearing aids and a peek inside my ears. We’re already in the consult stage for cochlear implant surgery that may restore my hearing for the first time in my life. The hearing aids are clean, if not pristine, but one of my ears was in trouble.
I already knew the answer without asking. I’ve done it again! Over zealous use of Q-Tips with a piece of cotton firmly wedged deep inside my left ear. My “good” ear.
I could see Marilyn giving me “the look.”It will be her “You’ve done it again” look. I will have to schlep to the PC for help. If I could my punch myself in the face, I would. My excuse? My ears were itchy and moist, so I’d probed deeper than I should with the Q-Tip the previous evening. Karma is my frequent guest.
Not done yet, it’s off to the pharmacy at Walmart. Neither of the pharmacies we normally use had the script, so I had to go to Walmart. But, the staff was friendly and accommodating. They laughed when I asked if someone could probe my ear for the delinquent piece of cotton.
My self-anger grew darker. I really know better. This is not the first or second time. Me and Q-Tips have a long and complex relationship.
The parking lot at my PC’s office was unusually empty. Voila! In and out for me, I thought. Wrong, Beano breath. It was lunch hour. The offices were closed. I sat for half an hour, tapping my skull in sync with the “Beavis and Butthead” theme. Agony flipped to ecstasy when my PC showed up, smiled compassionately and quickly flushed out that devious cotton shred. Joy couldn’t mute the stupidity I felt.
Suddenly, I realized I was hungry. Starving. I’d been rushing since I awakened to complete all my errands. I hadn’t even drunk a cup of morning Joe.
Later, I passed some time with a fellow manicuring the lawn across from the medical complex. He burped, recounting his recently finished jumbo sandwich. My stomach repeatedly growled as I watched the landscape-whisperer.
I was drooling when I hit our local Deli. Naturally, there was a long line in front of me. People slowly selecting lottery tickets. My stomach sounded like an inferno. Mother of Mercy. It was longer than any Mickey Spillane-Mike Hammer wait.
Finally, journey’s end. Back home to Kachingerosa. The furry kids were full of energy, no doubt anticipating a blue plate luncheon. They’d wait this day. The odor of the dog’s playground did little to placate my hunger.
It was hard to face myself today where I was the perp on everything that went sour.
Adios, Bad hombre!