Today was cold enough that Diane invoked her feminine rights to crank up the heater a bit. I admit, it was a lot cooler than it has been the last few days. Today was about 60 degrees after 4 days in the 80’s, up to 88. I didn’t think I was going to ever quit sweating, but I had no choice because Diane insisted that I do “stuff” even though I was perfectly OK with just sitting quietly on the couch with my book.
Consequently, over the course of the last 4 days, I had to take about 8 showers. That’s just a huge waste of water, don’t you think? Her tactic for making me head for the showers is to tell my deodorant quit. Very subtle, huh? That’s good that she has a sensitive nose, I guess, because it’s rare when I notice when my deodorant quits. It’s not like something goes dark, like when you switch off a light, when your deodorant quits. It’s a nose thing. I think I’ve seen her nostrils flare just before she tells me that which I find odd because you’d think they would shut down a little if the odor is that offensive. Instead, they flare, as if to gather in as much of my manly aroma as possible before making be go wash it off.
Contradictory, if you ask me …
… but no one ever does. It’s just, “your deodorant quit.”
Makes you wonder if eye-glass prescriptions have a terminal date like other prescriptions. You know, like all the pills you take have a warning on the bottle telling you to “renew before 3 August, 2018,” or something similar. That’s the only warning you get. With eye-glass prescriptions, however, there is no warning. One minute you’re walking down the street admiring all the pretty people, your prescription runs out, and everything goes blurry. It would be especially bad if you were driving at the time, or navigating crowds on your Segway, or water skiing, flying a plane, watching TV … one of those important things. What would you do?
That’s happened to me. Honest. The first thing I did was tentatively say, “Diane?” because she’s always lurking around nearby, and she would hear the question in my voice.
She said, “yes, dear, what now?”
“I can’t see,” I responded.
“You can’t see what,” she queried back.
“I can’t see the TV.”
“Is it on?”
“Are you wearing your glasses?”
“Are they right side up, like the little nose pads are actually touching your nose?”
“Are they yours?”
“I think so.”
“Well look at them!”
“Because I can’t see.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so before?”
And you know where that goes.
Finally, she tore herself away from American Idol and came to see what was going on. Turns out I fell asleep and the cat was laying on my face. I was hallucinating in my sleep during the entire conversation.
It’s good to know that I can carry on a conversation when I’m unconscious because that might come in handy one day. Maintaining control of what flies out of my mouth might be a concern, you think, but that’s never been one of my worries, awake or asleep.
Like at Lydia’s game last night. The umpire, Pete, has his own version of a strike zone and it’s different for every game. I say things throughout the game regarding what I believe are blatant bad calls and I hear Jennie in front saying, “Dad …?” which means don’t do this, while Diane is beside me doing the wife version of the same thing. They are, of course, afraid I’ll get kicked out and embarrass Lydia, or them.
Pete ignores me, so it’s really not a problem.
I think that’s it for now … it’s 10:36am and time to get started with my day now that I’ve shed the weariness of the night, and my morning 3-hour nap.