Thursday, July 24, 2014

Celebrating the good things in life: a Thursday shopping spree, grilled cheese and Sam.

Hey. How’s Thursday treating you so far? Mine has been peculiar, rewarding, thrilling, highly eventful and annoying for all of the reasons listed below.

BADLY-TIMED NAPS. Sam and I were on totally different schedules this morning. He went back to bed at 8:30 and slept until 10:30; I passed out in the family room sometime around 11 — immediately following a bowl of ham salad and two sugar-free cookies — and I was still unconscious when Sam left for work at 1:15. For your possible interest today’s nap movie was Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959) starring James Mason and Pat Boone.

NICELY-TIMED TELEPHONE CALLS. I contacted two local Wal-Marts a little while ago and both of them have my insulin syringes in stock. BOTH OF THEM!
So I asked an Einstein at the Wal-Mart pharmacy on Town East Boulevard to set aside two boxes of 100 for me and an equally-unmotivated Einstein at the Wal-Mart Supercenter on I-30 to set aside four. I’ll send Sam to both pharmacies tomorrow morning to pick them up. Wondering why this is such a big damn deal? Because my syringes are constantly unavailable, sold out or back ordered and I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO BUY THEM ANYWHERE ELSE since Wal-Mart’s price is 50% cheaper. I use four of these syringes every single day and run through a box faster than low-carb hotcakes with sugar-free syrup. (See what I did there?)

The following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) the Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market on Town East Boulevard; C) the Wal-Mart Supercenter on I-30 in Garland; and D) my podiatrist’s office, which has nothing whatsoever to do with insulin syringes, hotcakes or Wal-Mart and everything to do with my feet. In case you give a crap my next appointment is August 5.
EVERYTHING HURTS. Today’s complaints include my knees, my feet, my hands, my ribs, my neck and my butt, which are being caused by arthritis, plantar fasciitis, diabetic peripheral neuropathy, and three very painful recurring muscle spasms that defy explanation, respectively. Particularly the pain on the left side of my butt. Seriously, people, I’ll bet there’s nobody else on earth with a SPASTIC ASS. (The only thing that doesn’t hurt today is my hair. But it’s still early.)

SAM AND HIS PLAID PANTS. My adorable consort, Sam, is taking a vacation day tomorrow so he can hang around the house in his favorite baggy plaid pants eating muffins and Costco pasta salad. I am strangely excited about this.

MEANINGFUL DECISIONS. I just figured out tonight’s dinner menu due to it already being 6 p.m. and I’m really hungry. I want TWO GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICHES on low-carb white bread and a side order of SUGAR-FREE SWEET PICKLES. (Please note that low-carb bread is surprisingly teeny and one sandwich isn’t big enough to fill a molar.)

I guess that’s about it for the moment because I have to start grilling that glorious cheese. For entertainment I also plan to watch The Last of Mrs. Cheyney (1929) starring Norma Shearer and Basil Rathbone even though it’s a very early talkie with shitty production values, overly-theatrical performances and staging like a cheesy play with one camera view that never changes (probably because the director couldn’t figure out how to hide the microphone). Does this sound awesome, or what?
Thank you for reading stopping by. Tell your friends.

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