More Posts from Max39211 and Others
Cycles
For me, the pains associated with cancer come in cycles. I’ll feel good for a few days, and then I’ll crash on the weekend. It’s a nice metaphorical picture, but throwing up first thing in the morning feels like a never-ending journey. I heard a nurse talking about which was worse: nausea or pain. I’d say it’s a tie; one brings the other.
The card is in the mail. God bless our postal workers!
she lost him but she found himself and somehow that was everything. (insp.)
My crazy little brother looks exactly like this guy. I’m not able to say my brother’s real name without his permission, so I just call him Bob.
Searching for a home
The worst thing about selling your home (other than packing it up) is finding where you’re moving to next. If you’re searching a nearby neighborhood, it’s not so difficult because you can just drive over there and see the sign on the lawn and schedule an appointment. Doing it via online and telephone is a little more tricky, especially with these apps where you might be dealing with humans and you might not. So, I’ve narrowed it down to a couple things, namely that I don’t want to pay a lot and I don’t want a big lot. And this time I’m looking away from the water so that I don’t have that to worry about. I’d rather walk to the water than have it flood up to me.
Challenger
One of my earliest memories was the Challenger explosion. I was in first grade. I remember seeing a teacher running into the lunchroom and I knew right then that something bad had happened. They confirmed my fears right after lunch that day. I was devastated. I didn’t even care that the TV networks pre-empted “Superman” (which was a TV series then) to show coverage of the explosion. I sat in my Superman cape, sucked my two fingers and cried.
Fast forward to 2017 when I decided that the only place I would feel one with God was in the Great Beyond. Well, that, and the idea from “The Big Bang Theory” to have the first baby on Mars. That sounded like a good idea.
I’m feeling patriotic today. #music
So here’s a weird question posed to the internet: When you’re online and you’re chatting with someone who is purported to be both your cousin and someone famous, at what point do you trust that you’re actually chatting with that person and not the infamous email scam prince? Get back to me with your answer, H. ;)
Becoming Mr. Aces
Jan. 31, 2020
I awakened to a dreary, cold day in Florida. My phone was off (thank God!), although I didn’t realize that when I woke up from a fantasy and beat the passion out of myself. I took the flag outside since sunrise had passed and the country was in the middle of a crisis of conscience.
I pulled off my night clothes and stood stark naked staring at the phone, which, again, thank God it was off. The naughty side of me doesn’t ever see eye to eye with the “real” me, the one who won’t speak up until he’s suffocated.
I had been waiting for this day for a while. It was the day where the Senate would have to take a stand on a moral issue that had been plaguing America perhaps since its founding, when George Washington warned us about how political parties would be the end of us.
After fumbling through a few login screens, I settled into my blue chair with an Irish tea and Nestle creamer to watch a cute blonde woman pounding on her piano, some furry creatures watching her every move.
My furry creature was resting in the chair beside me.
It was now or never, I thought.
Now, the Spirit urged me. It’s time.
To Jam.
[FTR, this is my cat Libby. I sometimes like to put sunglasses on her to trick her out. Because that’s just what I do.]
