A lifetime Rx for Effitol

Hubbin thought he’d be clever and make an appointment for a problem(I have) that will fix itself. Instead of fighting it I just got up early and went. Well, the joke is on us both. Some baby decided to be born and the appointment I didn’t want to go to anyway was canceled by the time I got there. I never got the message. That happens a lot when you live up in the woods.

So I find myself with no solution to the random spasm in my leg which most likely is a side effect of one of the bulging disks I got from tossing bags of black high heels (nobody was ever going to wear) and standing in cop boots on aggregate floors. The only thing that will fix me is for the sun to come out and let me get off my arse. I try to explain this to him but he tries to be clever and will call and make me appointments I don’t need.

On that note, I was dragged out of bed by Pup yesterday morning at 4 am. A couple of the sisters Carona had whispered in his ear the whisky would be “fun” and before he knew what was happening all the monsters were out of the closet. He claims he is not a “drinker” but he does have anxiety so Mother had to drive to town. I wrapped him in a comforter and planted his butt on one end of the couch where I watched him until he made sense again and then fed him greasy food so we could have the talk about why alcohol can never ever be a part of his recreation. Yes, there are alcoholics in our family for generations. Many are “functional” so they tell you they don’t have a problem because they can quit any time they want just before they ask you where the local package store is. What you can’t do is try to reason with the boozy wobbler. What you can do is sit there until they start to feel embarrassed and ready for their mean culpa tour. We got there. No, you can’t do this ever. You aren’t good with it. You don’t like being out of control and you freak out. You can’t have the stuff in the house. You can’t ever think of it as recreation, only poison. His thing is he likes the phone. The phone allows him to reach out and say things to people that will always embarrass him later. We’ve made a deal. Whenever you think you are in over your head you call me. He’s faithful to that even when he’s stupid about other stuff. Anxiety attacks don’t need booze to happen and we have been through that too. My part of that bargain is I have to pick up the phone. I do worry that someday I won’t be capable of that. I hope by that time he’s learned to respect his limits.

So Hubbin had the inlaws Zooming later that afternoon and I was being broadcast nationwide nodding off in the middle of the visit. I had to excuse myself to answer the phone when Lady Gaga declared I had a call from Pup. He’d got himself sorted out. Zoom is kind of like a staring contest with multiple players. As soon as I flinched and fled the room everyone else bailed too.  Everyone was gone by the time I came back. So I kind of thought I was free to catch up on some sleep.

Soon as I nod off Delphyna calls. Delphyna never calls. I answer but the line is dead. I call back and nobody answers. I text acknowledgment of the call and no reply. The likeliest explanation is grandkids playing with Nana’s phone. Now I’m left with weird scenarios about her mate’s Trumpvirus tampering with that desperate need for REM.

Shortly after I nod again one of my brothers calls. Obie is sharing the news that his A1C is 13.5. You don’t really talk with Obie. You listen to Obie. Obie is a nurse and so also a pretty bad patient. This has actually got his attention. He’s not a fat guy, nor particularly sedentary, but he is very much his father’s son (except my father was never a 6 pack to sleep kind of guy) so it’d be a waste of time to state the obvious causes of the issue. He’s not stupid just stubborn. I can only hope he’ll figure it out.

I ended the day still tired but also wide awake. Watched “The Stand” E2. I like the new version of Larry Underwood. It plays in my head better somehow and he was always my favorite character so it’s an unexpected upgrade. Unfortunately, the storyline is all jumpy and that ruins the buildup. It doesn’t follow Stephen King’s formula for suspense. It leaves you disoriented or gives away the surprise before there’s a proper windup. I think there may have been a quick revision after all the Whoopi Whiners got online and started their whole indignant Karenizing. It’s like she’s there but they are trying to hide her. That is just stupid. Don’t wreck the story because a bunch of members of the focus groups got their panties in a bunch over daytime who-cares-anyway talkshow blatherings.

Made myself go to bed at midnight and somebody had set their clock radio to sports talk in the wee hours infringing my REM once again. On the heels of that, I dragged myself over the hill to the doctor’s appointment that never happened and we’re on day 2 of “pass me some toothpicks” for my eyes. I’m trying to finish a well-written book by an author who is too enthralled with the gross details of his adventures of nearly cheating on and nearly divorcing his wife or maybe doing none of the above. I think he’s going to piss me off. I just want it to be over so I can go upstairs and watch more Letterkenny before I try to sleep like a normal person…hopefully.