One of my friends called me last night and said, “Oh, I’m glad I caught you at home.”
Also, my neighbor came over this morning to help me with my trash cans, and she asked, “So, what are your plans for today?”
It’s becoming a thing amongst some of my friends that they want to be the first to split me wide open with their funny funny humor. My friend from work, Austin, keeps trying to send me funny texts so that I blow open like the wafer-thin-mint guy.
But I already had hysterics when I spoke to Ned on the phone and he was complaining about his hair. (To a woman with no ovaries and a new scar who has to be housebound for six weeks.) Anyway, he said, “My hair just lies there, like Tony Randall.”
When I asked him why, he said it was because Tony Randall is dead. I realize that explanation doesn’t help us at all.
I do feel slightly less foggy as of yesterday afternoon. I’m not saying I’m not foggy, but I’m less foggy. I’m less Foghorn Leghorn and more Cloudhonk Shintoot.
I got a book from one of you that I really like and thank you. It is called Hazel Wood.￼ You signed with the name you used to comment on my blog and I didn’t know your real last name to thank you.
It is occurring to me that I could’ve looked on my blog, found one of your comments, looked to see if you have an email address there and gotten a hold of you there. This lets me know that my brain is less foggy today and see above regarding Shintoot.
If I’m not mistaken, and I really could be, The Poet is going to come over today at lunchtime. Also Kit has offered to bring me lunch tomorrow. I have no appetite still, which I guess should be exciting, but I feel hungry and then nothing sounds good to me. Kit made me a chicken pie right at the beginning of my convalescence, and it was freaking delicious and it’s the only thing I was able to consume with any relish. Not literally. Anyway I’ve eaten it all. I think I’ll make her bring me a hamburger from one of the downtown restaurants tomorrow. I hope I can eat it.
Speaking of The Poet, I still have this ridiculous chat feature on my phone that we use at work. Mostly what the copy editors use it for is to ask, “Does anyone need any extra work? I have too much” or “Does anyone have any work to do? I have nothing to do.”
So I have seen those countless discussions while I try to get offa my cloud. The copy edit team is so nice to each other. Today I saw someone say, “Does anyone need any extra work? No pressure.” It’s just so polite. We’re like the Canada of the world of work teams.
I have to go. If Poet is really coming over I should shower and fix my Moses hair. My gray growout project is two inches in and these curls are very Red Sea parting. Perhaps this look is a mistake.
Once again, I hope any of this made sense because I feel like I’m making sense but then again I feel like I’m floating off on a cloud of waves. So what do I know?
UPDATE: I know comments are turned off and I’m trying, with my very clear head, to turn them on. With my smile.
UPDATE TO UPDATE: Comments fixed.
UPDATE TO UPDATE TO UPDATE: I got enough tips to pay for the stupid domain name so I took that part of my blog post down.
FINAL UPDATE: In the nine days since my surgery, I have been invited to four parties. All of which have occurred this past week or so. I couldn’t go to any of them but that’s more parties than I get invited to in a whole year usually. What is up with that?￼