Welp. I was upstairs checking stock near the windows a bit ago, and every now and again I'd stop and look out at the world outside those same windows. And what did I see? I saw a dude walking down the sidewalk. Amazing eh?
But what was interesting was his dress and demeanor. He was a young guy and had a rap/hip hop thing going on, except it was rap/hip hop circa 1985 (My Addidas!) like Run DMC or something. And every now and then as he was walking he would flap his arms and start singing something or other (probably, "I am the king of rock there is none higher!"). And it didn't appear he had headphones on as if he were listening to a CD or anything. A few minutes later, here he came again back up the street.
Hello? What's this? Coming the other way was an old dude. This guy was even stranger. He was a total old sea captain with a white beard and one of those wool sailor caps and "just got off a boat" clothes, though we are four hours from the ocean. Anyway, these two oddities were on collision course for each other. Imagine what a scene this was with Old Skool Rapper waving his arms and screaming and the old sea captain whistling the Old Spice tune.
And!!... they passed without even the slightest notice of the other. Eh, life can be sooo dissapointing sometimes....
You ever have people who, for no apparent reason, you just can't communicate well with? Like something is just a bit off every time you talk? I pride myself on being a good conversationalist and always communicating well. Oh, you may hate my very guts, but you'll clearly know what I am saying and meaning.
The chick who is an assistant to the surgeon who operated on me is one such person. We always have seemed to be either talking over one another or out of synch and by the third of fourth exchanged line we each end with an edge in our voice because of this failure to properly communicate. I could care less except for the previously mentioned pride in my speaking abilities.
And we have other awkward things going on too. The day of my surgery she was shaving my legs to put electrodes on me (they must have used a thousand, and I have a patchy leg hair thing going on still as well from that) and especially on my ummm. upper legs. Now bear in mind I had nothing on but a gown at this point. So she was surely getting all the view she could care to have. She made some joke about it that I remember not receiving well as I was about to be carved up in mere minutes and here's this chick shaving me with a razor that wouldn't shave hot butter in very sensitive areas!
The playing field was a bit leveled however, because with her scrub top on and her bent over I could totally see 99% of her boobs. Sort of tit for testicle situation, I guess.
But yesterday on the one week anniversary of the greatest fall since Humpty Dumpty, I returned to the scene of my humiliation and fall. Bravely, I might add. In the very hallway I had fallen in, I ran into this very chick. And we finally got past our bad chats. We talked for nearly fifteen minutes withour speaking over each other or any pregnant pauses whatsoever. So, I am again restored to my status as a great communicator. Uh-huh.
Part of our chat was how well I was coming along having recovered from my fall etc. I left that scene without falling on my arse and felt like I was finally back on track.
This was about the time life decided that I was doing far too well again.
Life's a bitch for sure.
Leaving for the day and not five feet from my truck I guess my right leg decided it had been overworked and it just said the heck with it all. I hit the ground like a sack of potatoes....again. This time I manage to spare the worst from my knee, though it takes a hit again. I scrape both palms and my right elbow and my whole right ribcage is sore like a mutha. Luckily, I looked around and saw no one in the area. So it went unnoticed. I pulled myself up slowly and surveyed the damage to my person and then got my butt home.
What am I? 80 years old? Hey look, Grandpa's fallen again.
Geez, louise.

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