I can remember quite a few years ago when I had whole seemingly endless weeks with nothing to do. Whole days would be spent on the computer browsing the web and writing blog posts as I would nurse a beer. I would also walk down to the Piggly Wiggly and share lots of beer with George, Slop, Ferret and the gang. I didn’t have the responsibility of a car so I rode my bike everywhere stuffing everything in my Wal-Mart backpack.. Some people would dream of such a life without responsibility, but it does grow old quickly. Quicker than you would think. You begin to long for some meaningful purpose in your life – a reason to get out of the bed in the morning -- a reason to make a difference in the world. Oh, and a 24 beer hangover is not very nice even on the mildest of days and you always had to drink more beer to escape that feeling. The best cure for a hangover is drinking more alcohol.
I also spent a lot more time in the mental/psychiatric wards of hospitals as well (shudders!). At least, East Alabama Medical Center has some of the best hospital food I have ever tasted and you could eat as much as you liked. A boon for a person with eating disorders like me. Brief Intensive Treatment (B.I.T.) was also a place to find me if I wasn’t at home. The only thing that is memorable about that place is I remember eating lots of fish sticks and watching lots of very bad TV while I was there. And arguing with my then psychiatrist that I was ready to go home. I did leave against doctor’s orders a few times over the years.
The Fretting Fretter Beckons…
“I didn’t realize that soup was so old. I can be so forgetful. I was just trying to help you,” my mother told me last night very worriedly – sounding full of guilt. “Your father jumped all over me when he got home. He said I could’ve killed you.”
“Oh, it wasn’t that bad,” I told her trying to assuage her worries about my father’s hyperbole. “I was kind of disappointed I couldn’t eat the soup personally. You know I love vegetable soup. Especially vegetable beef soup. I was ready to make a big pan of cornbread and brown some ground beef.”
Mom chuckled with a more lighthearted air to her voice. You could hear the worry audibly lessen in her voice as she began to stop fretting.
Mom told me she was going clothes shopping for me and herself today. I used to wear a size 44 pants when I was 250 pounds and I am now down to a 34 size at 170 pounds. All my pants are falling off my hips. Mom noticed I was trying to hold my pants up with one hand as I was getting my groceries inside last Monday. I guess I would fit in with the saggy pants trending crowd by pulling my underwear up higher. I want to show the whole world I wear stark white Fruit Of The Looms!
The Maggins…
As is usual for Maggie and I, we started our morning off to our daily routine just like we do every morning. Maggie runs outside barking furiously to clear the way for my departure in my car as I go and get my sodas. She sees me putting on shoes inside and knows that can only mean a few things. Work or sodas. She will still be sitting by the gate of the fence until I return. I usually have a treat to give to her when I come inside and she follows. This morning she got some Pupperoni sticks for taking care of the house while I was gone. I still think she is in shock from when the plumbers invaded the basement last week.
2 comments:
I see a lot of the saggy pants crowd at the probation office. Too many butts for my taste.
Hi. We were away in Ohio for about a week, We don't have a laptop, so we leave our computer at home. I missed your blog. We went to my husband's 50th reunion at the College of Wooster. The "Patio Picnic" was interrupted by a tornado watch. We grabbed our plates and headed for the basement of a nearby building. All I could think was, "Andrew would have loved this."
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