Wednesday, February 5, 2020

An Eighty***Second to remember.

So, (a beginning to sentences that has been used for some time now and which annoys the hell out of the stick-in-the-mud in me but which I have decided to use in my new attempt to join the current  zeitgeist),* I stayed up till four this AM binging on, I am somewhat embarrassed to admit, Madam Secretary, and set Alexa to wake me at ten thirty because I had a Peapod  delivery scheduled for eleven AM. and following my new rule of I'll be ready when I am ready so do not call me and do not knock on my door, I left my phone in the kitchen and closed my bedroom door, took a pill, and, after a half hour or so of trying real hard to remember how  to sleep, fell unconscious only to  awaken with a start at ten AM  to the scary sound of vigorous pounding on my hallway door and the annoying babble of voices in the hallway outside said door discussing loudly my possible whereabouts and/or condition or lack of it.

It is said that during sleep what seems like a week long dream can take place in mere seconds. A corollary to that could be that an awake mind can entertain/suffer an infinity of  embarrassing, tragic, infuriating, deadly,** or humorous end-of-the-world events in the seconds it takes to throw on a dirty t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants.

The rest is colloquy (abbreviated). Foul language (mine),* suppressed before utterance.
To wit: Got groceries, delivered an hour early "because of the weather" which looks fine to me but they did come from Chicago, so... cheery greetings from gathering of hallway neighbors. Three cards that had been shoved under the door during my sleeping hours remain on floor,  trod upon by me and the Peapod driver.

I am proud to say that everyone with whom I came in contact during that semi-sleep-walked-through episode left thinking I was a gracious and charming if somewhat wild looking old lady. 
Yes, of course I am grateful. And along the lines of the story of the the old lady who responded to the policeman notifying her of her lover's death, "Yes, I heard you and when I finish these pork chops you gonna hear some crying and wailing!"  or something like that. Wen said I couldn't tell a joke and he was, and still would be, right.
I only wish he had been here to answer the door.

* I have no idea where or what the punctuality should be in any of these cases but it sounds okay to me.

**I know where this one goes but do not care. I like it the way it is.

***Is there supposed to be a dash there?

Any and all bday greetings appreciated. Dip wins the prize for cleverness, originality, and making me cry while I was still cursing Peapod.
To who ever reads this, I love you.

And as far as run-on sentences go..................................................👂💗

Okay, I'm awake now. I've stopped vibrating. I can't believe I posted that pic, but, to use another saying from the list, "it is what it is."

Just one more comment about the sin of not being up and dressed by at least eight am like  I once believed all good housewives everywhere were. I thought I was free of those particular thought burdens. Until I opened the cards on the floor and found one hand delivered from Sharon and Jerry. Can you say guilt...in  spades?  Not only is it not over till it's over, it will never be over.

2 comments:

davidly said...

Comity of airs should never be required of the birthday boy or girl. You have overcome the handicap; you tell a great joke and story.

alslee said...

You are too kind.

Once upon a time...