That line above is from It’s a Wonderful Life, which I saw last week at my old theater. Every time I see that movie I’m an It’s-a-Wonderful-Life-quoting asshole for the next month. That line is from right at the beginning when all you see is George Bailey’s roof but you hear everyone praying for him.
I suppose the person saying that line is Martini the bartender, and with a name like that, what vocational choice did he have, really? I guess he could have worked at a factory that stuffs pimentos into olives.
Who decided that was a must, anyway? Was there some kind of pimento lobby? It’s like the only place pimentos ever go, really. It’s the only place pimentos get any work. No one has a pimento soup or a pimento…martini.
Anyway, once old Martini the bartender sent that prayer up to Jesus, Mary, Joseph and all the saints, do you suppose they were all, “Yeah. I gotta transfer you to my supervisor. Wrong extension, there, Bub”?
When you get transferred in heaven, do you suppose the hold music is just some old-timey hymn or maybe a little Foghat? Maybe some Hocus Pocus by Focus.
Once Marvin and I were in the car with another couple, and he had his guitar–which, why? Anyway, he started playing Hocus Pocus and I did the yodeling and why didn’t we have more couple friends, I wonder.
Hello. Welcome to my brain.
It’s 6:22 a.m. and I’m up, I’ve BEEN up, because I had a migraine for THIRTY-SIX HOURS this weekend. I’m writing you with no food in me and my first coffee since about nineteen aught seven.
And it wasn’t just a migraine that took up my entire Sunday. No. It was a migraine with nausea, then really bad GERD due to my migraine pills, and then also panic attacks each moment I was awake. I was alternately covered in sweat or freezing and my thoughts were race race racing.
It was relaxing.
I’ll tell you who’s a good boy, though. Edsel never left me. I had to mince up once, to feed him in the morning, and mince up again to feed him at night, and once during the middle of the day I forced him to go out and pee. He really wasn’t going to go. He kept looking outside but then back at me. “Eds, I won’t die if you go out for a minute,” I moaned at him, hunched and sweaty.
He didn’t quite believe me, and I didn’t quite believe me.
Anyway, seeing as I slept fitfully from 7:00 Saturday night till 5:30 this morning, I’d say I got my rest. And Edsel had a delightful 20 minutes running outside in the dark already this morning.
Thanks for all your nice words about Iris. I can’t even think of her sweet face yet. I can’t.
And by the way, when I wasn’t grieving or having migraines, I did manage to go to some more places in town I’ve never been, per my deal with self.
One place I’ve always wanted to go was this pharmacy quite near me that I know had a soda fountain but I’d never gone in to see it. I finally went in and saw it! They had Old Spice for $3, which I desperately wanted to buy, but I did get some cotton pads, as SOME YELLOW ASSFACE kitten took all of my current cotton pads, cotton pads, crnt., and splayed them across my bathroom floor.
I also have these six natural-fiber washcloths my Aunt Mary got me for Christmas–they’re supposed to be excellent for removing makeup. Anyway, I washed then folded them all and put them in a cubby in my bathroom, which has a whole wall of little cubbyholes.
This morning when I finally emerged from my sickroom, it was a little treasure hunt of natural-fiber washcloths all across my house. Milhous had taken them all down and apparently carried them about like prey.
Anyway, my point is, I am seriously considering switching kittens/pharmacies now to the old-timey soda fountain one. First of all, it’s a lot closer and secondly, I can sit at the counter like I’m Violet Bick in It’s a Wonderful Life.
Let me tell you something: I will always be on the side of the over-the-top blonde when there’s a no-nonsense brunette to contend with. No-nonsense brunettes tire me.
I also went to a new resale shop, to benefit hospice, as a neighbor told me the stuff in there is “too nice” and she wouldn’t be back. This appealed to my narcissism and I headed there posthaste.
So that sums up the rest of my time off, and what a way to end it. Tonight there’s a big NYE party at the B&B my friends own, and it’s The Poet’s birthday, and I’d invited her to go to said party but now I don’t know how I’ll be feeling. I hate migraines ruining my life.
I leave you with my end-of-the-year video, which I showed you a few weeks ago but now it’s really actually the end of the year, so…
Talk to you next year. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Wooo.
P.S. What should my New Year’s resolution be?