Sigh Number Three
Great, Friday the 13th. I was listening to the news last night, a commentary from a reporter on assignment in Iraq saying they were mounting anti-aircraft guns on the tops of buildings and her long term contacts were increasingly upset and frazzled, one rumor having Hussein holed up in the recesses of his palace like a zombie gone on a terminal Valium binge. She said people in Iraq don't talk politics and most especially they don't talk about Saddam Hussein, but the rules were unraveling with the coming invasion. Valium. What kind of decisions do you make on Valium in a Valley of the Damned? Friday the 14th has a better ring to it, don't you think? No more talk of Iraq.
The Land's End package arrived, two grey t-shirts, two pair of jeans (33 inch waist, a little tight) and half a dozen (34 inch) jockey shorts. The first pair of jeans and the first pair of jockey shorts are in the laundry basket. I have another shipment coming from the Gap, maybe today, maybe whenever (Land's End is the hands down champion in getting their orders out and shipped.) with another dozen pair of jockey shorts. Less expensive jockey shorts. Hope they last. Hope they hold up. Hope I don't need them in a week because I'm high and dry and back in my boxers again. Sigh.
Raining like crazy, by the way. No impetus to go out, other than a need to buy lunch. I'm down to a box of Cheerios and a package of pasta. Nothing wrong with that, good to get rid of the sugar loaded stuff. The bag of Jelly Bellys. It took me three weeks, but I ate a bag, a big bag of these things. Nice. Tasted fine, a gift from the office, but not worth the damage to the system. Not worth whatever horrible number of calories was ingested. A couple now and then, sure, a shot of sugar, nice and fine, but not a bag, not by myself, not anymore. Sigh. At least I'm isolated from the holiday barrage. Have a Jelly Belly XMas. (Did I mention the 33 inch pants were a little too tight?) Second sigh.
Later. Cooked up some spaghetti with canned clams on top. Then I went out and ate a chicken sandwich, thinking I hadn't read the paper and the landlord had asked me yesterday if I'd had the really nice chicken sandwich at the place down the street. The hole in the wall depressing place with the nice Asian American waitress? Well no, I hadn't. Later, coming home, pulling out into the street, I cut left instead of right and bought two Nestle Crunch with caramel bars, two for a dollar, a package of honey Cashews and two bottles of Coke at the 7 -11 look alike. Fuck it. The god damned Crunch bars, by the way, were down home tasty. Still raining. Still tired, a little dizzy, I'm not sure what the "dizzy" is about. Something I've been experiencing since well before the operation. Sigh number three.
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