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Once again I’m waking up after two long, long naps. The first was 18 hours, from 5:30 a.m. until 7:45 p.m. last night, and another four hours from 11 p.m. until 3 a.m. this morning, just a few minutes ago. Life is upside-down. I sleep all day, I’m up all night, but fortunately Sam is usually on the same schedule with me.

The Whine List expands.

Good morning and a happy Thursday to one and all. It’s 4:30 a.m. and Sam is getting ready for his first walk of the day. He usually starts at the forest in south Mesquite — called Samuell Farm, believe it or not! — and communes with the moon and stars. He gets home just as the sun comes up. Typically he’d stop at Wal-Mart first to pick up a few necessities, but the store changed its hours after the COVID-19 hoo-hah kicked in so he waits a little later now to make his grocery run. (My appetite has been low this week. I ran out of applesauce.)

I’m not in a very good mood right now and don’t need shit from anybody.

This has been the day from hell. And it’s not over yet.

I have no idea why I ordered six packages of fine egg noodles.

Hey. Good morning! It’s a few minutes past 8 a.m., Sam is in the study watching videos on YouTube, and I just finished one of my all-time favorite breakfasts … canned Hormel Beef Tamales with a side order of pitted Greek Kalamata olives in a teeny bowl. I suppose I should write my official product review now in case there are other senior citizens wondering what they should eat today.

I’m pretty sure we’ll never experience a Greek olive shortage in Texas.

There’s still hope for America, boys and girls. Sam just got home from Wal-Mart and they had all the essentials we’ve been trying to find for the last few days … toilet paper, paper towels and paper napkins! He didn’t over-buy anything, either, so there’s enough left on the shelves for other shoppers. He also brought home a jar of Greek olives, but I’m pretty sure we’ll never experience a Greek olive shortage in Texas. (But you never know.)

Sam is the undisputed king of organization around here.

Happy Thursday night, boys and girls, and welcome to the Howdygram … your lighthearted alternative to COVID-19 and empty shelves at the local Wal-Mart.

There’s more to this story than pain.

I wanted to write a post several days ago but haven’t been awake long enough to string any meaningful sentences together. I do have lots to say, though, so I’ll try to take a stab at this. Get comfortable and pour yourself a glass of iced tea.

Cherry pie and Greek olives … the perfect bedtime snack!

Yo, everybody.

There’s no end to the entertainment possibilities around here.

In case you haven’t noticed, I made a few changes to the Howdygram’s banner! They are: 1) the logo is smaller; 2) the black outline is heavier; and 3) I’m using a different font for the tagline (“Made in Texas,” etc.) and a slightly larger point size.

If you want to remember the Alamo, please feel free to do so … as often as possible.

Hey, boys and girls … it’s a few minutes before 5 a.m. on Friday morning, Sam is in bed, and I thought it might be fun to launch a fresh Howdygram post at this screwy hour because I just ran out of ideas for greeting cards and there really isn’t anything else to do. I’d also like to throw in some free fonts.

I think Wal-Mart and Costco were ransacked over the holidays.

So. It’s late Thursday night, Sam is napping, and I’m lying here like a slug trying to decide what I want to eat whenever Sam wakes up because I’m really, really hungry. (Correction: I’m really, really STARVING.) Tonight my bedtime snack possibilities include: 1) a can of baked beans; 2) Jif peanut butter and a plastic spoon; 3) two sugar-free almond cookies with milk; and 4) Great Value chicken noodle soup with a bag of Miracle Rice. This afternoon I received a six-pack of Miracle Rice — a zero-carb, 10-calorie rice replacement — that I ordered from Amazon a couple of days ago. I love this shit!

Friday has been moving along quickly due to an over-abundance of unexpected sleep.

Hope everybody is having a pleasant day-after-Christmas … because I’m NOT. (Get ready for another kill-joy Howdygram post.) It’s 10:24 p.m., Sam went to bed more than an hour ago, and I’m trying to choke down a Stouffer’s frozen dinner that includes a rubbery breaded chicken patty, tasteless mashed potatoes and beige sauce. Not good. There is NO FLAVOR WHATSOEVER — even with too much salt and pepper — but I’m positive it’s not really Stouffer’s fault. I have to blame this on my shitty dead taste buds. (I’ve had Stouffer’s frozen chicken dinners before and never have any complaints.)

Here’s a short list of Howdygram-approved movies coming up on TCM.

Howdy-do from Howdygram headquarters! Sam and I just finished watching one of my favorite screwball comedies from the 1930s, Merrily We Live (1938) starring Constance Bennett, Billie Burke and Brian Aherne.

I haven’t set foot in my own kitchen for more than six years.

It’s a few minutes after midnight, Monday morning, and I’m pleased to announce that I don’t have indigestion. Mazel tov! My stomach is fucked-up almost all the time these days, so reporting an absence of indigestion is an awfully big deal.

What happens when your caregiver gets sick?!

Happy Friday, boys and girls. I’m sad to report that my sweet Sam is sick. I’m thankful he gathered his wits — of which he has many! — and got in to see his doctor right away yesterday morning. The diagnosis …

I can still name everybody in my fourth grade class (almost), even Herbie Rotfeld.

SATURDAY, 11/16/2019, 8:13 P.M. I’m wishing y’all a pleasant Saturday evening from Howdygram headquarters. Sam is in the kitchen fritterin’ around with my dinner — baked mozzarella sticks with pasta sauce — even though I’m not really convinced I’ll be able to eat that.* My stomach has been “churning” and generally upset since I woke up this afternoon at 4 p.m, and after a round of medication I’m still not feeling any better … except for the fact that I feel completely empty and need some food, pronto pronto pronto.

I’m having another “dead mackerel” experience.

Yo, everybody. I’m having another “dead mackerel” experience, feeling chilled, clammy and altogether lousy with a low-low-low body temperature of 94°. This is extremely unpleasant, so I’ve been trying to find ways to distract myself for more than an hour. I started with a ridiculous Shirley Temple movie from 1934 called Stand Up and Cheer (blecch!) and eventually wound up dicking around with the Howdygram’s text color. I changed it from aqua blue to a different shade of aqua blue, as pictured below.

Sam is considering a new career specializing in catheter removal.

It’s been a whole week since my last stab at a Howdygram post. Seven days. And if you’re wondering why, it’s because I’m recovering from another “decline” … my third decline since August. Therefore I’d like to take a couple of minutes to discuss this with you, okay?

Warmest Halloween greetings to you and yours. Thank you … and adiós!

Surprise, surprise! My monthly catheter change was rescheduled for yesterday at 10:30 a.m. rather than today (Thursday). I was a little nervous about this because I’ve been struggling with more (very severe) burning bladder spasms, and didn’t think I’d be able to tolerate any medical procedures in and around my urethra. I was right, too. The catheter change hurt like hell. But there was one “plus” … at least Martha was able to insert the new catheter on her first attempt. Finally! (The last two monthly events were nightmares.) Also in attendance today were Leticia, my hospice C.N.A., who provided a bathing and hygiene session before the catheter festivities got underway, and Sam.

Nobody likes stingy pot roast.

I can’t figure out what else to do for entertainment right now so I guess I’ll get started on another Howdygram post. It’s a few minutes past midnight on Sunday morning, Sam is in bed, and I don’t feel like watching a movie, reading the national news, designing greeting cards for The Howdygram Store, answering email or staring at the fireplace … which happens to be the only available view from my hospital bed in the family room. I suppose I should warn you that I’m recovering from another miserable bedpan ordeal (don’t ask) and I’m not really feeling particularly upbeat or cheerful. Deal with it. I promise to do my best not to drag you down or irritate you, okay?