To write or not to write. That is the dilemma which has troubled me recently.
When I came to gather, I never imagined that I would end up writing for the "Jerry Springer Show" contestants. Yet that seems to be the crowd that has somehow devolved.
Faced with this dilemma, my body produced what it always does when it needs an excuse to withdraw, a fever. For the last week, I have cycled my body temp so much I feel dizzy.
I get no sympathy from the dogs. They merely look at me as a disgusting human bent on heating their environment and then sweating profusely.
Boopy finds this particularly distasteful and wonders why humans never learned to regulate their temperature by panting. It's so much more appealing and smells much better.
The time spent away from gather has had its rewards. Daytime television and its commercials has hastened the recovery of many.
During the Monk marathon yesterday alone so much could be learned. Do you know that you can have Monk text message you right on your cell phone? If only cell phones existed in MY world. You'd think Tony Shalhoub would be busier than that.
Do you know there is a website where you can find the nearest public restroom wherever you might be? It's OABguide.com. The OAB part stands for Over Active Bladder. Now you know.
There's another website for women who evidently can't keep track of a calendar as easily as their laptop. It's called Mymonthlycycle.com where women can keep track of their menstrual cycle. This stuff is important!
Then there is the commercial combating the germs of the world by showing a little boy eating his sandwich off a sidewalk. Then it changes to the little boy eating off of his kitchen table implying the danger of germs to be the same. It's quite unfortunate that his mother has never heard of plates but at least she has something she can spray to protect him.
Throughout my sweaty ordeal, I took great steps to keep myself hydrated. I had become quite the sprinkler system. Evidently it wasn't enough for yesterday in the midst of the commercials, I suddenly became aware of a drastic thirst.
As my mind began playing images of possible remedies for the slaking of this thirst, I took inventory of what was available. My first attempt was a huge glass of sweetened iced tea with a lemon wedge. I gulped it down and waited to feel the relief. Nothing. Whatever I needed, wasn't available. Images of huge chocolate malts and slurpies danced in my head but nothing seemed quite right.
Then in the corner of distant memories the picture crystallized. A rootbeer float! That is what I craved. Every fiber in my body was calling as one for what was needed. Whatever nutritional value it held, I was sadly deficient. I hadn't had one since I was a boy. I felt so neglected.
Quickly I headed to the store for the fix of my life. With shaking hands I prepared the glass. I poured the rootbeer in the frozen glass. Then the ice cream was flying, most of it hit the glass. The noises that sprang from the kitchen as I guzzled it down scared the dogs who were now hiding.
A few refills later, I sank in my chair as my spirit soared.
I then understood the David Letterman line, "IT FLOATS"!