I’ve played a betting game with office temperatures. I was so comfortable in the sweater I brought Tuesday, I bet with the warmer temps predicted for Wednesday I wouldn’t need it.
WRONG. I left the showroom yesterday slightly bent forward from trying to conserve body heat, mostly the discomfort in my midsection. This morning at work I learned why my body felt is had been shaken near senseless by the Angry Gren Giant. The body, I was told, works about every muscle to keep from shivering — as I tried, successfully, every conscious moment from walking into my house from work until the space heater in my office began to take effect, and I quickly warmed beneath an afghan and a bed spread when I ate dinnr, napped and on awakening to that fab show’s theme song, enjoyed the first Charlie Rose show I’ve seen tis week. Stop me if you already know all this.
I was so frikking cold and almost spasmodic and down on slings in general I could not finish the pan of Chilli Man Chilli I heated about 7. I have ALWAYS eaten the whole thing. Until last night.
You’re waiting for the “eros” part. Probably 30 years ago, as I watched Phil Donohue explain “what ’surprise’ is. That’s the first time you can’t do it the second time. You know what “panic” is? That’s the second time you can’t do it the first time!” I consider the cbili shortfall another brush with “surprise.” SO . . . . . there’s your eros.
After Rose, I experienced what I call the loneliest hour of the day: from 11 pm to 12 am. That’s when WUIS plays a repeat of the fine music I heard once before the same day from 2 to 3 pm. I don’t want to hear it again so soon. I have to be an optimist to enjoy classical music. I also have to think more than I want to think at that time of day. Betweem 11 amd midnicht, I don’t want to think a lot. The perfect solution, as I descovered Wed late, is to read the best magazine printed in the American language and likely the rest of the languages too: The New Yorker. The one weekly issue is not enoiugh to see me through the week. Knowing that I left the rest of a supreme article about Marlon Brando and God knows what else so I can go back to last week’s issue.
A brief conflict of interest before surrendering to sleep. I KNEW I wanted to start taking Vitamin C tablets again, but I also knew it can hurt the unprepared stomach and I was NOT hungry. — STILL not hungry at 4:30 this afternoon and had nothing more to eat today than eight or nine Pringles. There’s always a place for Pringles. — So I drank a glass of iced tea with no ice and finished, swallowed on little old 500mg tab and chased that with a left over half a glass of Burgundy.
Yesterday was as cold as I intend to be at work and at home. I brought my sweater today; took it off. Don’t need it. Hope izzon the horizon.
Y’all stay warm now, y’ heah?
Live long . . . . . and proper.
Thank God the weather is warm today. Even the front door at “Rock City” propped open. But I still feel I’ve been through a wringer: my entire booooooody.
