what you call kidney stones, I call pet rocks

What a week! While the United States has been rapidly descending into an Autocracy, my house has been falling apart. We found out that the insurance will not cover the burst water main and subsequent damages because of “reasons.” Home owners insurance — why? Like Dimitry’s mom in “The Exorcist” I find myself asking, “Why you do me this way, Dimi?” So there’s some thousands. My BBQ grill gave up the ghost. There’s a mystery light on the dash of my car. While I’m in the enjoyable “expectorating” phase post cold and I’m also off lifting restrictions post hernia surgery. You know, my body is like 90% scar tissue at this point. Ah, so yes. At least I’m not going through D’s ordeal. He called from work yesterday — a mild touch of kidney stones. He came home with orders to get his NARCOTICS and cranberry juice. I love how when one has a prescription for pain medication, the suffering patient must haul him or herself to the pharmacy and wait FOREVER for said prescription. We, being gays, being somewhat similar in appearance, are able to impersonate the other. When I had my hernia surgery he posed as me to get my pills so that I would not have to wait at CVS while my intestines spilled onto the floor. CVS — free scowls for all customers. CVS — spend eternity at our pharmacy. CVS — our thermal paper receipts now come with 30% more BPA. CVS — our water stained drop ceilings will induce soul crushing depression!

Right, where was I? Oh yes, D has kidney stones. So he’s been peeing in my favorite mesh strainer hoping to find his fun friends. I want to save them and put them on display. I mean, I’d be proud of that. He won’t do it though. But why not? The best things in life are transgressive.

I was planning on going to the march downtown today but I didn’t want to leave D alone in case the pain got out of hand. I’m a good husband, right? I mean, yes — I do terrorize D on a pretty much constant basis — what with the dutch ovens and the pressed fruit bowls on the glass shower wall. Also, I have a geotag on his phone that causes “Orinoco Flow” to start playing on the Sonos system whenever he comes home. He’s not technically adept and can’t understand how I’m doing this. When we were in Savannah my hernia surgery scab came off and I handed it to him. He was horrified. Okay, I’m a terrible husband. But I blame it on Trump.

So to recap: world going to hell, democracy cancelled, kidney stones.