Blog #390                                         August 29, 2024

 

Last night, Carol and I had this actual conversation. 

 

M:   Honey, I want to ask you something.  Tell me if I’m wrong.

C:   You’re wrong. 

M:  You’re probably right.

 

And that was the end of the conversation.  Nothing more.  My wife would make a great Parole Officer.  She never lets anyone finish a sentence.

 

My oldest daughter, Jennifer, recently asked me to read an article by the humorist Dave Barry, so I pulled up the Miami Herald article on-line.  For me, reading an article on-line is like teaching a fish to play canasta.  First, there’s a white box in the upper left corner that says – The Miami Herald would like to track your location, search your house and take your temperature – rectally.  Plus, they want to do something with my cookies.  I hate when people mess with my cookies, so I clicked NO!  Immediately, an ominous black square covered the screen with the question – Would you like to subscribe to the Miami Herald?  The options were not Yes and No.  The options were Yes and Ask Me Later.  I clicked the latter, knowing full well I would have to deal with them for the rest of my life, but at least I finally got to the article.  As I attempted to read, videos popped up in each of the four corners and in the center of the page, all trying at once to sell me everything from cat litter to a subscription to the Kale Recipe of the Month Club.  It was like trying to sleep with four spiders crawling on your face.  And even if you could force yourself to concentrate on the article, every second or two the line you were reading would suddenly jump up or down a few spaces on the page.  Did they actually want me to read this article?  Maybe they just wanted me to have something funny to tell you.

 

Hi there and welcome back.  I hope you are feeling well.  I am now in Week Three of the torpid dreariness of Pneumonia.  It doesn’t seem to be any better than Week Two.  Let’s move on to other things.  Like Labor Day.  When I was a kid, I remember Labor Day meant back to school and the Jerry Lewis Telethon.  Jerry Lewis is gone now and schools start much earlier, but Labor Day still means one thing – no more Summer clothes.

 

Those tangerine shorts just won’t make it

No white – it’s the law and don’t break it

And if you wear linen

You’re certainly sinnin’

You might as well just go out naked.

 

I’ve decided the naked option is out, so I’ve just resigned to letting Carol pick out my clothes.  It saves so much time.

 

And speaking of cookies, I do not like computer cookies (whatever they are), but I am partial to Oreos.  Yes, my daughters all tell me how bad they are for you, but   Oreos are not even close to the most poisonous cookies.  There are cookies you can buy that have more than twice the calories and twice the fat of an Oreo, and they are marketed by a very famous and ubiquitous agency.  And who, you might ask, is this monstrous, malign and maniacal megalith that is proliferating these preposterous, poisonous pastries?  You guessed it – the Girl Scouts.  Sinister?  Yes, but also superb, satisfying and spectacularly scrumptious!  As Oliver Twist remarked, Please, Sir, may I have S’mores?

 

Do you use eBay?  I recently sold some stuff on eBay and they gave me, as a promotion, a $50 certificate that I had to spend in three days. Well, what should I buy?  I mean, it’s the World of eBay!!  Every possible item made or conceived or saved or dug up by the human race since the dawn of civilization is on eBay.  I have my choice from vast and unlimited selections of electronics, art, fashion, household items, sporting goods, vacations, automotive, jewelry, collectibles, investments, antiques.  You can buy Twinkies, false teeth, rubber bands, ANYTHING!  So, what did Mr. Exciting decide to buy from this unbounded emporium of riches, this cyclopean cornucopia of wonders, this magnificent market of marvels?  A year’s supply of fiber pills.  It is a sad and curious life, isn’t it?  Fiber pills!

 

Boy, there were a lot of big words in that last paragraph, but I’ve chosen torpid as our Weekly Word.  It means inactive, sluggish, lethargic or slow.  But while I’m struggling through this torpid malaise, I am not idle.  I am very busy administering pills, lozenges, capsules, salves, creams, syrups and drops into and onto various parts of my body.  Yesterday I took so many pills, when I walked down the hall I sounded like a Yahtzee game.

 

Message from Shakespeare:  Therein the patient must minister to himself (Macbeth).  Pops is sleeping in the guest room so he won’t keep Carol up with his coughing, and I am sleeping right on top trying to keep him warm and safe.  I’ll make sure he’s ok.  I got this.  Purr.

 

Even besides the pneumonia, I had a bad day yesterday.  Every decision I made turned out to be wrong at best and stupid more often than not.    I won’t go into details, but my spirits were low.  I drove by the place where my Low Self-Esteem Support Group meets, but a sign said – Please Use the Back Door.

 

So I went to my wife for support.  “You have other fine qualities,” she said.  I asked her to name one.  “You’re easy.”  I was looking for handsome or talented or maybe even smart.  At the least I deserved efficient.  Hell, even my high school yearbook said I was punctual.  But no, all I got was easy.  She said I was easy to handle.  She makes dinner – I like it.  She makes a reservation – I don’t care where we eat.  She makes a date – whoever, I don’t care.  So, from now on you can call me Mr. Easy.  Stupid and Lost and Easy.  What an epitaph:  Here Lies Michael; He Was Easy.

 

Well, easy come, easy go and it’s time for this easy guy to get the hell out of Dodge.   Come back to me next week.  I need the company.  Until then, stay well, count your blessings and take your fiber pills.  Oh, and have a fun Labor Day.

 

Mr. Easy                                  Send comments to mfox1746@gmail.com