Thursday, August 11, 2016
Patterns and Cycles
There are patterns in the universe, and there are cycles. I am caught up in one. I must be. The shit keeps happening.
I need a car. I can't keep driving an Xterra with a bad transmission. It just doesn't look right on my dating site profile. It will definitely hook me up with the "wrong" kind of woman (though it is probably the most accurate description for me I can think of). I had to make a choice, and though there are many possibilities, I could only take one. So. . . I am driving a brand new Nissan Rogue. I didn't buy it. It is the loner that they gave me while they do another $5,500 worth of repairs to my Xterra.
I can feel a lot of you flinch. You would have chosen another possibility, perhaps. This was the cheapest one, though. And like I say, I have to have a car.
But I have doubts. I drove the short distance from the dealership to the grocery store in my neighborhood. It was raining hard, but was letting up as I pulled into the parking spot not too far from cover. Sitting in the Rogue, my foot was twisted at a different angle than I am used to, perhaps, and as it is lower to the ground, getting out is different as well. Whatever, I got out quickly and headed for the grocery store. And that is when my "good" knee went. There was no pop or tear, but I suddenly had a very sharp pain that I thought might be temporary. I twisted and kicked my leg thinking that something would pop back into place. All that did, however, was send lightning bolts to my brain.
God is punishing me.
I put liniment and such on my knee before bed, but at one o'clock this morning, I woke up wide-eyed. The pain in my knee was intense. I couldn't move it without the lightning bolts again. I had to take something for the pain and to make me sleep. And so. . . .
This morning, I am muzzy mush. My knee still hurts, but sand is running through my veins. I have to go to the factory, but I will be a mess. I will give the knee a few days, but if it continues as it is, I will have to see the sawbones. The pain is real and deep.
Shit, this had to happen during the Olympics. I was inspired yesterday sitting at my favorite bar having a drink. I hadn't been there for many months, but yesterday afternoon, there was nothing else to do and no denying it. The bartenders still remembered what I drank. And as I sat there alone and brooding, I watched the silent Olympics playing on the inevitable t.v. screen at the end of the bar. I saw the best of the games, perhaps: either rugby or Australian rules football (I couldn't tell), women's table tennis, and fencing. I was ready to get into fencing/ping-pong shape. But I think that is out of the question now.
Blame this post on benadryl or whatever chemical they put into those p.m. tablets. I need to shower and head toward my blighted fate.
Posted by cafe selavy at 9:29 AM
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