ls there a question why I feel exhausted all the time?
No. The truth is, it’s not feel exhausted…it’s that I objectively am exhausted all the time! Because I do not live in reality. I live in the Land of the Loony Tunes!
First thing this morning, I’m flying around trying to get dressed to drive out to Scottsdale to get my hair done by the Great Hair Stylist of the Western World, Shane. Gotta be there by 9:30. which means I have to leave here by 8:30; 8:45 at the very latest. Meanwhile we have the usual dog feeding and house maintenance chores to get through first, in addition to showering ad washing hair and finding some clothes that aren’t too embarrassing to wear in public.
A-n-n-n-d as I’m charging around: BING BONG! Front doorbell.
Helle’s Belles, now what?
Look out the front window and there’s Ex-Pool Dude, the guy I canned because he made such a f**kin mess of the pool. ohhhh noooo….
He has gone out and bought a brand-new Hayward pool cleaner!
God help us. The things cost four hundred bucks! He can’t afford four bucks for lunch, dammit.
This, I realize, is how desperate the poor guy is to get back on my payroll.
I tell him I’ve already bought one and it’s already installed in the pool. And after making nice to him for a few minutes, I send him on his way.
{sigh} Talk about your guilt trips!
Fortunately, I’m batting around too frantically to think very hard about this.
Fly around bat around fly around bat around fly out the door, streaking toward Scottsdale’s tony Fifth Avenue district, wherein Shane resides.
We’re trying to get my hair to grow back to its former glory. You’ll recall that I had to have it all hacked off short after I broke my shoulder, because I could no longer comb it. If it ever does grow back, it’ll take years and years. What we had this morning was a couple inches of shag.
He did his usual handsome job of spiffing it up. But at this rate I’ll never have long hair again. Right now it’s about an inch long in back, maybe three inches on top.
Weather: 110 and overcast today. Not the kind of stuff one enjoys driving through, from pillar to post — no matter how great your car’s AC may be. And mine is just fine.
After the junket to Scottsdale, I drove back through the Arcadia district, sight-seeing and considering real estate opportunities — many more than used to now exist for us po’ folk in those parts, in the form of shiny new apartment buildings.
Apartment living is not much to my taste — been there, done that, don’t wanna do it again — but as a practical matter, it may be one of the only choices for Olde Age.
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Didn’t get this posted y’day…one distraction after another. In eight minutes, I have to leave for the Mayo, therein to harass MayoDoc about the eye thing that my 80-year-old (and then some) ophthalmologist wants to take a scalpel to. Sorry, Doc: second opinion time!
Soooo…let’s send this off, and then while I’m waiting endlessly in the Mayo’s waiting room, we can get started on another post…