So the drugs are finally out of my system, but I’m tired and wrung out and half-with it. Spent the last 90 minutes trying to help child with a class project, which I was informed about at the last moment; involved printing off a double-sided tri-fold brochure, and as I said on the Twitter it’s like trying to use a Mobius strip as a carpet runner in that MC Escher house. Simply could not arrange my brain to accommodate the printer-paper position. Where does the paper go? In there. Which side prints? It’s a mystery! Until you get it out, that is. So I’d draw a mockup of the page, send it to the printer, make orientation marks, then flip it over and try the other side, and pray it lined up.

Would be easier if the chemicals weren’t still hanging around encouraging befuddlement, but even so. It’s one of those spatial problems that would make Stephen Hawkins say “this way. No - hold on.”

Lack of sleep? Couldn’t be that; slept the entire day, and hence have nothing to report. I’m serious: got up, took my pills, went to the dentist, was put under, woke, have a very vague recollection of being driven home, something of a memory of walking up the steps with clown shoes, then I was all by myself.

Heeeeyyyyy, lunch! Let’s make lunch! I promised myself a small mini pizza, Bellatoria, and according to the tape I made to document just how blitzed I was afterwards, I could not only pronounce “Bellatoria” but do so with an exaggerated Italian accent. I could not, however, get the pizza out of the box, and had to resort to blunt scissors. When I discovered that there was insufficient pizza, I declared that I would have to apply salami, and that was fine, because - mutter, mutter - daughter had decided she didn’t want it anymore after I bought a pound, and I GOT SAUSAGE COMIN’ OUT OF MY you can fill in the rest. I set the timer and put it in the oven, and by all accounts got it out, but I have a distinct memory of finding myself physically incapable of getting it to my mouth with any consistent success, and the dog got most of it.

Realized I was really sleepy, which made no sense; didn’t I just wake up? So I went upstairs and laid down BOOM and the day was done. Woke at 4:30.

So that was my day. Oh, and the tooth hurts like hell, but that’s just pain entering my body and strength leaving, or something like that.

Read the tweets to the right; you’ll see the descent. I have no idea what I was intending to type towards the end. It’s always like that. I do recall walking around, expecting to see my wheelchair; I remember the ride up, somewhat, getting into the chair, hearing Jody chortle “we’ve been reading your tweets on the Bleat,” getting handed a cup of salty bye-bye fluid that reminded me of the awful stuff Mom made me gargle when I had a cold, always in the pinkish plastic cup I still have in the closet, except now it holds my Matt Mason action figure holding a .44 round, and then Doc Andy put some magic off-you-go powder under my tongue. It’s like he was the Sandman. My eyes were closed, but I could hear the heart monitor, and I thought “it’s too fast. Am I nervous? I should slow down. Did it just do three beats in a hurry? Why am I”

And then I was awake. My teeth all white and shiny, too. It’s like going under for a tonsillectomy and getting a facelift while you’re there.

So, that’s it. Plus a dozen or so Disney updates. See you around.






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