Late, If Not Better

I wasn't going to write today, but here I am, and blah blah blah. It's been a long weekend of mostly having a variety of health issues, which I won't go into here in any detail because I still have some minimal sense of decorum. I may call someone for an appointment tomorrow, but frankly, I wouldn't even know who to call -- that's whom -- so I may just wait until Tuesday so that the cardiologist can tell me there's nothing wrong with my heart and I can say "Great, now who can you send me to for xx disgusting condition that I also have?" I could also see my new internist and list all my symptoms for her, top to toe, but she's either already on maternity leave or is going sometime this week, so she's busy, and you know, I changed to a woman doctor for a reason. (The other internist in the office is not. A woman, I mean. If I get the measles or some other disease of a non-delicate nature, I will happily see him til Dr. Mama comes back sometime in September.)

So I've done very little except a quick trip to the supermarket today, and otherwise, reading or watching TV. (And changing cat towels, of course, but he's had a good day today.) Listen to how psycho this cat is. He will not touch food that's been sitting out at all. Which means, if he didn't eat all of it the second I put it down (and he never does), he turns his nose up at what's left. So when he cries for food, I have to pick up the leftovers, clean off the dish, and put new food (from the same original can) down on it. Earlier today, as I was performing my ritual, a bit of the "old" food slipped onto the floor and he went after it like it was fresh caviar. He's such an OCD little weirdo.

I finished the Under the Banner of Heaven, which was quite good, although I suppose that evaluation would depend on whether or not the reader is him or herself a Mormon. Btw, I read it as an e-book, on my little Palm, because I wanted to try to read a whole book that way and see what it was like. (Which prompted K to say "But I gave you the book. It's right there." Two feet away from me, but yes, I was reading the ebook instead, which made it possible for R to borrow the real book before I'd finished it.) Anyway, I liked the reading experience very much. It's small, easy to hold, only requires one hand to hold it open, and best of all, has its own backlighting, so you can read in a dark room. Even so, K gave me another real book, along with a dirty look, so I started reading Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I must be the last living person who's never read any Terry Pratchett. I picked up something once and didn't like it, so I never tried it again. But this is amusing, so far. Only I wanted to turn the lights out, so there you go.

Writing tomorrow will depend entirely on the state of my ailments, which provide various levels of discomfort throughout the day. Now, not to give anything away, primarily because no one wants to know, and I'm not limited here to just one ailment, because that would not convey the full sense of joy that it is to be me, but I will share with you a series of events from my childhood that are never far from my mind these days.

There were several television commercials for what was apparently a popular product. I saw these during the day, so it must have been times when grandma was looking after me and her stories were on. Each commercial featured a plain, dark background, and a pleasant but stern looking man standing in the center of the screen. Then he speaks and comes to life. In one commercial, he strikes a giant match and hold it up; it is about a foot long and burns at the top like a torch, and he says

"Stop the burning pain of hemorrhoids!"

Being six or so years old and having some minimal understanding of human anatomy, I think "What are hemorrhoids? I thought ...."

In the next commercial, same man, same stage, suddenly holds his hands out in front of him, palms spread about two feet apart, and says

"Shrink hemorrhoids with Preparation-H!" and he moves his hands closer together by about two inches on each side. and now I think

"OH GOD! WHAT ARE HEMORRHOIDS?"

Imagery is wasted on the impressionable young. Fear works, for sure, but imagery? Subtlety? Pssshhht.

WATCHING PBS :: ENTRY #1537