Malarkey

Good day to you all, you wonderful people, you. It's raining, which puts me in a good mood. It prevents the neighborhood kids from playing football in the small courtyard below my window, so I am blessed with some peace and quiet. And the sugar maple in that courtyard is brilliantly coloured in red and yellow. I like a sunny day now and again, but this is my kind of weather; the world feels more forgiving of my pathetic pseudo-existence. One feels hidden from the cruel and revealing bright sunshine, and I don't like being mocked by the blue sky, either.

Anyway, a couple of friends o' mine expressed concern over my upcoming surgery. I wrote to Anne, my bird from London, and let her know that it is routine surgery. I'll probably go home later the same day, drugged and sore, but home free. She didn't seem to be any more at ease, however, and said something like, "In the states, they send you home as soon as they stitch you up." While there is some truth to that, I really want to say that the surgery is considered minor. You can see an illustration of it in my last post. Nothing like the gastric bypass. But thanks to those who wrote or called out of concern.

Of greater concern to me is my increasing need to engage in certain obsessive rituals during the day. Like the left/right sock thing, and the need to lay them out correctly every night (see picture). I also have a pen mark on my pillow case to make sure that a specific part is always on the bottom right. The container of half & half always has to be lined up correctly in the refridgerator after use. And sometimes I have to read the full descriptions of every movie on every cable channel for the whole night. So odd, and so damn time consuming. I guess I'll have to talk to my psychiatrist and therapist about all this malarkey.

Get out, or in, and enjoy this weather everyone. And get laid. Yeah.