For the millions* of women who have asked me: Boxers or Briefs? Depends. For a little while.
* The author is prone to exaggeration.
* The author is prone to exaggeration.
|Reality slaps me in the face at Walmart. Reality. I hate that ##$%#$!!|
I think I wrote at some point that I'd have the occasional down day. Well I had one yesterday, though it likely wasn't obvious to very many people.
I had a fantastic Saturday, for the most part. I helped put together a big political event. Perhaps the biggest thing I've ever done. The only down side of the event is that my apolitical loved ones would rather stick needles in their eyes than attend anything political, so I was pretty much on my own. I respect that, but there was still a part of me that wanted them to see what it meant to me to put something like this together before I enter a period of ...oh I don't know ...I suppose the polite word is "unpleasantness."
Yeah, we'll go with that. Unpleasantness.
So I spent half the day on the event, starting with final prep work at 4:30AM. Then came the event itself. I finally headed home around noon, where I found the grandchildren visiting. After about an hour or so with them, I headed off to work. I can honestly say that when I hit the sack that night, still in a pretty fair mood, I was probably more tired than I've been in decades. Just worn to a nub. I wanted to sleep until at least 7AM.
Instead, the alarm in my phone went off around 4AM and long story short, I was up for the day. And because I had too little sleep while already exhausted, I set myself up for brooding.
So there I am, in the wee hours, exhausted and unable to fall back asleep. I ended up working on home finances until it was time for church. Finances were a downer Sunday morning. It is becoming apparent that even with good insurance, getting sick is going to be expensive. Church put me on the rebound, as it always does, especially on Sundays like this one when I am "on duty" as a Eucharistic Minister.
Yet even here, my thoughts wandered to the morbid. I realized that if my upcoming surgery (more on that in another post) went horribly wrong, this could be the last time I would experience the joy of receiving and giving Communion. I know the chances of something going that wrong are small, but I also know one of the profound, unshakeable laws of the Universe: Shit happens.
Well, that self-pity train just kept rolling. I started thinking about all the things that would blow up if I wasn't there to keep them going. I won't list them, but there were a kajillion of them racing through my head. Then I recalled another of the laws of the Universe: The Universe will go on without you, dumbass.
I suppose that is so. After all it was here first. We're all just visiting a bit.
With great effort, I pulled myself out of the doldrums. I went over to Wallyworld after Mass to buy coffee and some other odds and ends. I was feeling pretty good. Saw a portable ice machine, and envisioned myself on the deck plopping fresh ice cubes into my beverage of choice. I could almost smell burgers cooking on the charcoal grill, and the gentle aroma of wing sauce wafting past me from the kitchen.
Yes, life was good. Keep that chin up! I told myself.
I turned down an aisle and found myself in front of the incontinence supplies. Depends underwear for men. Various underwear pads. (They call those pads "guards." I think it is so men can imagine them as a sort of offensive line protecting the star quarterback. It's a lot better, I suppose, then realizing they are there to keep you from earning a new nickname: Dribbles.)
Too much reality. Far too much. I stood there looking at all the products. There's a pretty impressive collection out there for dribblers and soon-to-be dribblers.
And yet, that dose of reality calmed me down. Yes, there are some unpleasant days ahead.
I will just find myself something else to dive into and I'll deal with what comes. I've spent 56 years doing that and it has worked out pretty well so far. I have a knee that I shouldn't be able to walk on and I've done thousands of door-to-doors on it. I am deaf, but I can hear again. I'm ugly and ...well, okay, that is what it is.
So sayonara. Signing off for today.
Yer pal, Mr. Dribbles...
* * *