Sunday, March 3, 2024

A Good Day

Today was a good day. After the preceding weeks almost anything would be an improvement. Last night the nausea compelled me to take another of my hoarded, three-year-old Ondansetron. This morning I awoke hungry & able to drink. Breakfast was a few delicious bits of ham w cheese shreds on half a tortilla "waved" for 35 seconds.

If it weren't for the nausea, I'd be suicidal from the boredom, but I've had some interesting literature: Airline: Style at 30,000 Feet is a bizzare reminiscence of the heyday of flight when stewardesses had to have fifteen inch waists and know how to endure Trump-esque misogyny with a smile.






After the section on clothes came food, followed by interiors. In those days people dressed up to travel and business & first-class came with interesting food creatively presented and  complimentary champaign. Still, it felt a bit like dredging the barrel.

After weeks abed, I was sore and, arising from my labors, took myself off to the Chinese Massage place. Last time my hip had been acting out and after some prelim on my legs I directed her to the area of concern. She was amazingly strong and her ministrations lasted the better part of a month, but this past stint had me aching again. I was a tad apprehensive about returning as when I left last time I had the feeling she was annoyed at my not having requested a happy ending.

This time, as she did my legs, she came even closer to my groin. I endured. When I finally forced a look at the clock and saw there was only ten minutes left and she was working my left foot again, I interrupted her and said, "Back" and rolled onto my side. 

At $60/hr with a $10 processing fee for using a credit card plus a $20.00 tip, I can only afford it once a month, if that. Her touch is wonderful and I'm afraid I'm gonna have to succumb to the tantalization. That'll add at least another half hour. If anyone feels my pain, Phoebe's maintenance fund is in the upper right of the desktop view.

On the way back from Michelle's catsit I was able to go into Trader Joe's where, as I approached the entrance, a comely young Security Guard complimented me on my overalls. She followed her opener with an extemporanious singsong advert: "Overalls feel good over all." 

That was more than enough for me and we commenced. Over the following fifteen minutes I got to admire her Shirley Temple curls, sparkling eyes and delightfully full figure; learned she'd trained as an auto tech and taken some courses in animation. She enjoys working on vehicles but security pays better. Despite my assurance I've only nine readers, she declined to be videoed saying, "I don't wanna go viral."

Now, at nearly midnight, the angina is nagging, but the nausea is still absent.

A good day.

2 comments:

  1. Sounds like there is still some life left in you. Or rather that not everything is dead yet.

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