Hydration Station. I let them upsell me. I said "yes" to everything. They kept putting more and more stuff into me. They had me lie in an "anti-gravity" chair. It was the best part of the experience. The thing enveloped me and massaged me in ways I've never been massaged before. I think it even put a digit inside my sphincter. I asked how much a chair like that cost, and they told me $10,000. Well. . . fuck.
At the end of the visit, they tried to sell me a membership. That way, I could come use the chair any time I liked. I'd save money, too, the lady said. I told her that I was going to wait and see how I felt after the drip. She said, "Remember, depending how depleted you are, you may not feel anything until the third of fourth treatment."
That's when I knew I'd been taken. You are supposed to feel extreme fatigue after a magnesium drip. Indeed, I quizzed the crew on the Myer's Cocktail, and none of them knew shit about it. Since it is not a medical clinic, I guess they give very low dosages of everything. To get the real stuff, I imagine, you need to go to a medical clinic run by a doctor. They are MUCH more expensive, however, and no insurance covers that kind of treatment.
At least I got hydrated.
But I felt no better yesterday, or marginally so. I don't feel so hot so far this morning, either. This worries me. But let me not worry you.
It's Father's Day. This is when I reckon which of my friends have children and which are child free. Of my friends at the factory, it is overwhelmingly child free. Of my friends outside the factory, however, they are about 80% fathers. Of those, most had children later in life, not in their twenties or thirties. I guess we became friends in their "running" years. We're still friends, of course, but I don't really see them much any more. To the man (person), they are still with the mother's of their children. They, in the main, have much more money than I. Maybe it was just that us poor factory workers couldn't afford to have children. We were in the worst of all scenarios, having small but adequate incomes. Or so I figure today.
It does little good to think about things too much, really. Yesterday at the "clinic," the "technician" told me that the chemicals they were putting into me would help clear away any mental fog.
"What?!? Wait! I spend most of my time trying to get into a mental fog!"
She looked stunned. "You mean you don't want mental clarity?"
"Jesus, lady, I have far too much mental clarity. I'm trying not to think!"
So there was that aspect anyway.
Yesterday's heat index yesterday was 107. I sent a screen shot of that to my northern friends who all sent back the lovely temperatures from where they were. Then the rain came, wind blowing, limbs crashing, three inches of water in a matter of moments.
And just like that, it was 75.
Deck complete. No worries.
I'm certain my buddies are all getting a special breakfast or their favorite meal served them today. In unison. Around the country. They tell their spouses how much they appreciate them and tell their children how much they mean. Spouses smile and children try to get back to whatever they were doing, young or grown.
So I reckon here today. But again, it does little good to think about things too much. I think I'll make a mimosa.
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