99 questions to ask your grandparents #71

April 6, 2026 in 99 Questions | 10 comments

71. Was there a habit you wished you’d quit earlier?

The first draft of this entry was an essay on how to give up bad habits and take up good ones, but it looked pedantic and boring. Shooting off my mouth is a habit I still need to quit. Spo

Over the decades I have rid myself of several irksome habits and there are more to do. Question #71 seems to ask about a bygone habit that would have made life better had I quit it earlier than I did. That is one of of those ‘what if’ scenarios, the old ‘if only I had done X, not Y, how different (and better) life would be!” Dwelling on regrets and the might-have-beens drives one to distraction and is not to be encouraged. It is better to recognize when you are rummaging around in the Past, call your energies into the Present, and sally forth into the Future. With that said let’s see what embarrassing habits I can remember.

The main habit I wished I had given up earlier was making decisions and doing things based on what others would think of me. This one is a drawerful of old clothing styles and life choices based on vanity viz. people would disapprove or laugh at me if I did A, B, and C, rather than X, Y, and Z (which is what I really wanted to do). It took awhile but it was sometime in my fifties I realized I no longer give a tosh what others thought of me and what I was doing or who I am. If I wear a loud Spo-shirt or voice an unpopular opinion or sound like Charles Nelson Reilly in public I no longer look around to see if people are judging me. Sometimes people still do, but their desultory looks run off me like rain on a roof. It’s quite liberating really; when I look back the time I wasted I try not to be bitter.

Another habit that fell out the passenger window while driving down the highway of Life was sugar. As a lad I had quite the sweet tooth. When I think back on all the sugar-laden cereals, snacks I ate I wonder how I managed to get to sixty as well as I am. On the flip side, I did not drink alcohol in my teens or well into my twenties. Being a late bloomer to booze meant while others were developing into problem drinkers and trying to cut back, I was just starting out with more mature approach to alcohol. Sometimes being boring saves your life.*

Then there are the habits I wished I had picked up earlier in life like taking chances, saying ‘yes’ more often, and daily stretching. Again these are best not to dwell on the should haves but do them now. I exercise and stretch daily; I drink but never binge. I wear loud shirts and kiss male friends in public. I still roll down grass hills. Now I can work on more important habits to quit like forgetting doctor appointments and the like.

*I remember an elderly patient of mine telling me in his youth he would go on binges with his chums and develop massive hangovers to the point he announced he had to stop drinking given his religion. He pointed out this prudent decision resulted in him living into his 90s while all his friends had died years ago. He said the moral of the story was in his life he should have drank more.

Urspo saves some nickels

April 5, 2026 in Spo-Reflections | 32 comments

Note: the original title of this piece was ‘Urspo pinches his pennies’ but there are no more pennies. Getting rid of them is the only thing for which I applaud The Felon as well done. Spo

Last time I looked our savings was down by $50,000 and the price of gas was up to five dollars as gallon. Worse, the price of diesel is noe over six dollars per gallon, and looking to go higher, which the truckers and airlines pass onto consumers by raising the price of everything. If I listen to my rightwing-Trump loving* cousin, she poo-poos this all as liberal rubbish. She points out her beloved Fearless Leader says inflation is down and the economy is good and he’s responsible for it all.** On the last point I agree, but I digress.

Mind! I am far better off than most folks; many are feeling the pinch far worse than I; they are having to choose between paying the bills or filling the gas tank or buying food. With this admittance, I am trying to cut back on expenses. I am starting with the little things, which probably doesn’t saves much but it feels good to do something, along the line control the things you can control and not what you can’t. For example, coffee. On a recent walk I heard tell the price of coffee is growing and soon a cup of Joe at Starbucks will be 5 to 10 dollars. At work I am Coffee Master, but there are ways to do with less. At the end of the day I regularly toss out half a pot that wasn’t consumed. I can make less in the morning. When the current can of Chock-full-of-nuts runs out, people can use that funny-looking coffee machine in which one puts into it something that looks like a plastic dixie cup that someone makes one (and only one) cup. No sharing but each makes his own cuppa. We have heaps of these plastic containers as no one is using them when a fresh pot is available. Everyone can use these, thank you very much, and ff there are ructions I will tell them to buy some grounds for once (I do all the coffee purchasing). I always have my beloved tea; I have enough to keep me caffeinated until the summer months.

I am being more mindful of how many trips I take in the car, bundling up tasks into fewer outings.

At Uncle Albertsons we are buying less and when we do we are purchasing more store-brand alternatives to the national brand names. They are cheaper and they seem OK enough. We stopped buying hamburger and beef. We are eating out less; lunches are cans of soup more often than not. Restaurant and to-go food prices are the worst and arguably the area we can save the most.

The real savings is cutting back on future plans. Alas Babylon! Some summer trips and travel won’t happen as this means gasoline for car trips (or worse) airplane tickets. Some home projects won’t happen as hoped. We’ve gone this long in disrepair so another season won’t matter. A new car is right out. If the Elantra should suddenly die (worse luck) I will get a used, not a new car.

The ‘R’ word is being whispered online viz. Recession, and that ain’t good ! Us canceling things, putting off projects, and buying less isn’t good for the economy but screw you, economy. Fix yourself first.

How are you doing in these times? Are you cutting back? Are you hurting?

*Curious, when I typed ‘Trump loving ‘ spell-check anticipated this as Trump lying. I had to correct it to loving.

**She believes Trump was sent by God, to which I wonder why, did He he run out of locusts?

Spo-reflections on color

April 4, 2026 in Spo-Reflections | Tags: , , , , | 25 comments

Note: this was a quick impromptu attempt to get something off my mind, after I heard a podcast on the difficulties of dictionaries to define color.

They say one shouldn’t discuss religion or politics at the dinner table but I would add color as well. People get awfully touchy about color, particularly what is name is that color before us. I recall a pleasant game of dominoes in Palm Springs resulting into ructions over whether the shot glasses were cyan or turquoise.* Alcohol was a factor as were the fighters viz. four gay dudes. I have never seen a group of straight guys arguing whether the lawn chairs are purple or lavender.

The trouble with color is everyone has an opinion what it is. Scientists define color based on the frequency of light waves. For example indigo is between two specific wavelengths. Thems in the arts (and people of that crowd) see color along a spectrum of light to dark and now there is intensity/saturation to deal with as well. One man’s indigo is another man’s dark blue which is another’s light aquamarine. Oh the pain.

As a boy I was bewildered and perhaps a bit amused by the sometimes ridiculous names on paint chips at the local hardware store. Who makes these names I wonder, and are they really proper color names? Someone ought to be in charge shouldn’t they. Also in my youth who was in charge of color names was clear: Crayola crayons. They say growing up shatters one’s faith in humanity and this was illustrated by the horror to hear Crayola periodically changed the names of the crayons. This was like my late mother, whose name was Susan, announcing she was now on going to be called Mabel. No, she is Susan. My favorite crayon was ‘Prussian Blue’ which is now called ‘Midnight Blue’ and I have never forgiven them for changing it.

Even catalogs are fickle. The Lands End catalog apparently doesn’t know or can’t say the “Y” word viz. yellow, but uses all sorts of words to describe a man’s yellow polo shirt otherwise. Old gold was popular for a while as was maize, although that one was nice. I remember as a boy looking at the U of M flag and saying how pretty was the yellow and blue only to have the entire family say as one it was maize. Looks yellow to me, but I wasn’t going to be ostracized over yellow.

I went into hysterics hearing ‘grey’ and ‘gray’ are not just American and British spellings of the same (lack of) color but are actually different colors. I didn’t hear what was the difference as I had already gone into a swivet to write my congressman or set fire to a public building. Gray, by the way, is my least favorite color, no matter how you spell the dreary thing. I am in lifelong one man battle against all things gray/grey, painting the world in bright bold colors, no matter what you call them, or if you insist on spelling it as colour.

Perhaps we should all agree the names of colors are arbitrary and personal and what one calls this shade of blue is a personal choice and not worth fighting over.

Just don’t call turquoise cyan it is not and Prussian blue is not Midnight blue no matter what PC liberal rubbish board members at Crayola say. Them’s who say otherwise are itching for a fight and can of Sherman Williams dumped over their head.

*They were cyan; do not dare to question this.

Notes from the office

April 3, 2026 in Shrink Stuff | 18 comments

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Patience above! What a week this have been! Five days of at-work shenanigans left Urs Truly with little time for anything but work and sleep, worse luck. Hopefully the madness abates to allow more meaningful activities like blogging and basic hygiene.  On Tuesday I drove 45 minutes to the MESA office only to realize I forgot the portable laptop at home. Oh the horror. I could have kicked myself; I did this once before and vowed ‘never again’ and here it is.  I remembered from last time I can drive home, pick up the damned thing, and be back to work in 90 minutes, provided there is no shooting on the highway 101 and The Boss (contacted by text) moves the 8AM appointment.  The consequence is the ninety minutes I usually use to get ready for the day didn’t happen, and I’ve been running behind ever since all week

The new schedule program made its debut on Wednesday, 1 April; I wonder if The Overlord’s picked April Fool’s Day on purpose. The transition from the old system to the new had more bugs than a slum apartment and the texts and teams messages from various workers howling for help resembled an orchestra of scorched cats. I told my patients don’t be surprised if someone later calls them to say the appointments I made for them are double booked and must be redone. Oh the pain. 

About the same time someone tried to break into the PHX office (possibly an ex staff member) so the keys to the building and the office were changed – without telling the staff.  Overnight no one could get in. I happened to ‘break in’ because someone forgot to close the door tight (that ain’t good). I discovered four sets of new keys were put through the receptionist window onto the desk, in the room the is locked by one of the old keys.*. The next days were spent trying to deduce which keys go to what, and getting them to various staff somehow. It was further complicated when we realized thems who changed the locks mislabeled the key sets, leaving some of us locked outside like Henry waiting for Gregory’s pardon.  

It is an ill wind that blows nobody good. Not only did I figure out which keys go to what, I happened to find the long lost keys to the two mail boxes.  The Boss mentioned the other day she was probably going to have to call The Post Office and explain the situation and get new keys or locks.  When I opened the boxes, the contents resembled Fibber McGee’s closet and came out no prettier, but at least everything is out and piled high as Fafner’s hoard in the receptionist room, which now locked with its key hanging in a secret spot.** Rummaging around looking for lost keys I found two laptops, maybe the ones that went a-missing when the staff member quit. I got a big brownie points for sorting the keys and opening the mail boxes, and locating these laptops. The Boss wanted to know if I wanted the vacant post of receptionist.  I almost said yes given it is how I am spending my days this week.

By Friday the new schedule is setting down some, although Rx renewals and phone/portal messages are still coming into the old system, so I have to periodically return to it. I hope in time thems in charge will figure out how to get all work into the new system, and carry over all appointments as well.

Meanwhile I am Key Master and Post Master, in charge of making sure no one is locked out and the mailboxes are emptied on a regular basis. After all this is why I went to medical school and practiced medicine for thirty years.  

*A few times someone has had to crawl onto the shelf through the window and get down without damaging the keyboard or femurs to open the door from within. I was clever and used a long stick to slowly obtain all keys through the window. I am learning.

**Yes I told my Boss where. There was a part of me that thought not to tell until heavily bribed.

World of mine Wednesday’s Ws

April 1, 2026 in World of mine Ws | 30 comments

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What’s top of my mind: Plastic surgery. Now that I’ve had my eyelids done and my face lifted (don’t hate me because I am beautiful) I am considering the next step. A Tummy tuck? A pecs implant? So many choices for my aim to become someday worthy of being ‘beard of the day’ over at Fearsome Beard. 

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Where I’ve been: The Blue Whale.  Someone and I have grown rawther tired if the same bar before (or after) symphony, so we found a new place. It’s quaint place and looks like it hasn’t been renovated since the 60s. Groovy. The bartender – I think his name is Bob Rooney – is a fine fellow, well over four feet, who is getting familiar with our drinks preference.  He is also good for ghost stories. 

Where I’m going: Sierra de la plata, NM.  Rather than returning to Santa Fe, our usual summer spot, we will be trying another. Word of mouth says this pueblo is a charming long-held secret spot for folks to visit if they are willing to go off the usual path. I read online it has a reputation for real simulated Indian jewelry, made of silver.

What I’m watching: The Day the Clown Cried.   I am not a Jerry Lewis fan but a patient told me this is ‘the’ JL movie to see. I started it the other day but I fell asleep. I didn’t see much of it but what I saw I couldn’t’t determine whether to laugh or cry.  

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What I’m reading: The life of Lillian Virginia Mountweazel.  She was photographer my late Father (who was an amateur photographer) sometimes made reference to and so I am finally having a look-see. Her photo shots overall aren’t my cup of tea but she has a few good photos of fountains.  I will stick with Travel Penguin, whose photos are more interesting.

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What I’m listening to:  Florence Foster Jenkins. For thems unfamiliar with this diva, she was the toast of the town in her day. Alas, Babylon! There are only a few recordings left of her.  Her speciality was Mozart; she sang a mean ‘Queen of the Night’. 

What I’m eating:  Braised Trake and buttered ermal (for two).  Mother would make this dish on Sundays sometimes in my youth and I never cared for it. The index card of the recipe has sat in the recipe accordion file for decades; I finally got it out to try. Uncle Albertons was out of ermal, a which is a sort of lima bean apparently not of season right now, so I used lima beans.  It tastes just as I remember: bad.  I prefer anything over it, including rats at Tewkesbury – with or without the ermal. 

Who needs a good slap: The next door neighbor. Life was quiet and the sidewalks were clean until recently, One of the neighbors got a dog. Mind! I love dogs but this pooch looks to be a mix of half mastiff and the half bonnacon.  Bonnacon breeds are the worst for making messes and having a bad odor. I swear I can smell them long after they have gone indoors. 

On my 1-5 scale, I give the bonnacons (and thems who own them) three slaps and a waste bag. A large one.

Who gets a fist bump:  A old friend from high school.  The Book of Faces is evil but it has one redeeming attribute: hearing from old friends. I was playing Wordle the other day, minding my own business, when I got a IM message. The contents were a bit crude so I thought it was a phishing scam but then he told me who it was: Hans Wurst! Patience above! I haven’t heard from him since high school.  He was the class clown often getting into trouble for aping the principal, which he did well. He lives in Podunk, Wisconsin and he works in social media getting people hooked on apps.  We promised to stay in touch.

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What I’m planning: Repairing the proton pack. After near continual use, mine gave up the ghost. Oh the horror. 

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What’s making me smile: My tarot read for the week. Eileen (the dear!) reads my cards every Sunday and this week’s read, a one card spread, is The Fool. This is the best card in the pack do not question this and it is just right for now.

99 Questions to ask your grandparents #70

March 30, 2026 in 99 Questions | 19 comments

70. Which long-lost family meal, sentimental beverage, or discontinued snack food would you love to have just one more time?

Yes yes yes this is a good one! I could write paragraphs on any of these items. Childhood seems full up with food and treats that are no long with us. Food tasted better than did it not? Brother #2 and I ate astronaut food viz. sticks of foodstuffs and breakfasted on QUISP cereal. We drank TANG made from orange powder, which beat orange juice made from a frozen log concentrate by a county mile. FAYGO red pop was our drink of choice and we never stopped to ask what was in it, ** or what is tasted like, “red pop’ that’s what. I could go on as long as candy dots on a paper roll, so I will focus on which family meal, sentimental beverage, and discounted snack food would I bring back from the dead.

Long-lost family meal. Thanksgiving. Ours were cliche almost too good to be true but they were. We would drive north to the grandparents house. Mother’s brother’s family came in as well. The twelve of us had the usual trappings some of us sitting at the kid’s table. No one talked politics or the state of the union (probably because we are all of the same ilk). I can still see and taste the food, including Aunt Barbara’s ‘no thank you’ helping of squash. It came in three stages: 1] had to eat some (oh the pain). 2] big enough to say I won’t and not be creamed for it and 3] actually wanting some. Grandfather always had a large red ball of Edam cheese (no rubbish) with the pies, something I still do to this day on Thanksgiving. It was often Uncle David’s’ birthday as well, so after dinner it turned into a birthday party viz. he’d open prizes at the dinner table. Their home was north enough Father could watch on TV the ‘annual loss of the pussycats” as he called the Lions game. There was often snow to sense the Christmas season was commencing, which was agonizing long back then. Such fond memories of family, food, noise, and fun.

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Sentimental beverage. Happily most of my childhood favorites are still available: Red Rose tea, Faygo (which I don’t drink anymore), and Vernors, the later if it was ever discontinued I would riot and hoard as much as I can get my hands one and have one on my last day. I vote for Towne Club, which was a local soda place, that served its pop in tall bottles you bought by filling up wooden crates. After you drank them you brought the glass bottles back. They has some funky flavors including Kola and Cola (I forget why). As Father drove my brothers and I to the Towne Club distributor we made careful lists of what pop to get and how many. Gads it was all ‘regular’ then, full of sugar. I can’t stand sugared-drinks (nowadays called ‘regular’) but I would brave some for a trip to Towne Club again.

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Discontinued snack food. It think it was last year at Halloween I was bemoaning the lack of Bugles, which were coned-shaped corn products, which you put on your fingers to make witches nails. Then someone told me they still exist. Hot puppies! Getting some was page 71: they were tasteless and squashed flat one couldn’t use them for finger nails. They seemed to symbolize childhood snacks in general: even if they were brought back they would disappoint, as tastes chang and so do the ingredients (none for the better). What I would want back are Fritos. Wait a minute I hear you say, they still make such. I’ve had them and somehow they don’t taste the same. What I want again is the type that came in small sacks, about six to eight of them, in a long cardboard box, which also contained a Frito Bandito plastic object. I remember most the pencil eraser. Apparently people grew upset over the stereotypical hombre and he was discontinued, although my Mexican (don’t call me Hispanic) friend Jose found him hilarious. Yes I want a proper Fritos bag again, if only for the eraser.

What childhood treat or drink would you like to experience again?

**Sugar and chemicals that’s what. How on earth we managed to grow up and turn out fairly decent after eating and drinking all this crap is a modern miracle.

Sunday Spo-bits

March 29, 2026 in Sunday Spo-bits | 14 comments

I woke this morning to that pleasant emotion one has when you realize there is nothing pressing to do that day. Other than stripping the bed (a Sunday routine more set than going to church) there is little that needs doing. What a nice feeling this is! The temperature is pleasant enough for now to open the door and let in some outside air, although this is foolish given the mesquite trees are all a-bloom and the pollen level is atrocious. I made a pot of tea using the last of some teabags purchased long time ago; it feels a bit ‘flat’ but with milk it is passable. It is enough for breakfast.

Patience above it is the end of March already! I remember Mother taking us all to church on Palm Sundays and us kids would wave palm strands about throughout the service. The Sunday Spo routine was ‘go to church go in peach go to the pharmacy’, as Father always bought the Sunday New York Times. He never wanted a subscription as he liked visiting the store, where the owner and cashier knew our family for years. Sometimes (not always) we went to The Grosse Pointe Yacht Club for brunch. There is nothing so WASP as brunch at the GPYC. Our membership number was 2112, which I still remember fifty years later because Brother #4 was into RUSH at the time and he would sing a song in response to the gatekeeper who asked for our number. We were always let in anyway.

With a free day ahead I may do anything or nothing. There are always projects to do and shirts to sew. Someone has the Sunday off, which is extraordinary for him; I don’t know what his plans are. We subscribed to some streaming program that allows us to see ‘Live from the Met operas’ so perhaps I will watch one of those. There were a few I would like to see again and a few I didn’t get to see. ‘Salome’ is always good for ninety minutes of decadent music. I want to kiss you on the mouth….

Then again we may end up sleeping the whole day away which seems to be our favorite past time whenever there the opportunity. When in doubt, get horizontal. Not a bad way to pass a Sunday.

Curious things about the house #92

March 28, 2026 in Curious Things | 22 comments

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Most every Wednesday morning around eleven I call China Chili the local Chinese restaurant and order something ‘to go’ from their lunch special menu. By now the lady in charge of taking phone orders recognizes my voice and asks which one do I want (this time) and ends with a curt but not discourteous ‘ten minute – okay?” and hangs up. China Chili has the advantage it is nearby, tasty, and I get in and out fast – like my men. While the entrées vary (there are ten of them), the rest of the parcel does not. Lunch always comes with a small cup of egg drop soup and a vegetable roll, the size and length of a fluorescent high-lighter. It is enough for lunch. It all comes in a tied up white plastic bag, the type you get the grocery store checkout. What also comes along are two (never one) packets of soy sauce and a black plastic fork and spoon set enwrapped in a paper napkin held tight together by a small rubber band. I never use the cutlery, nor the soy sauce, having my own (proper) napkin and utensils at work. I put the packets and napkin sets in the top drawer in the staff kitchen at PHX. I am a Midwesterner; I do not throw out things that could be of use.

Over the months of weekly my excursions out for kung pao chicken (or something like it) a lot of packets have accumulated, enough to fill all of Lake Erie. There are enough fork and spoon sets to feed a large company picnic. Alas, Babylon! No one ever uses these and the pile grows high as Fafner’s hoard. Sometimes I take the soy sauce home and try to use them instead of the bottle in the refrigerator, but this seldom works as we forget about the damn things and they start to accumulate at home as well. Rationalists in the house feel they can be simply tossed out (which on occasion he has done). I do that too, but first opening the packets to drain the soy sauce down the waste pipe so it can be reincarnated someday as something else, say, hot mustard, which is something I would like but China Chili doesn’t provide. Stirges.

I’ve tried explaining to the phone hostess I don’t want any soy sauce nor spoons now or forever but this falls on deaf ears. The restaurant is full up with staff-persons and I daresay one’s job is putting together the to-go parcels and my request would disrupt their routine. And one cannot give away these things to Goodwill or charity shops. So from time to time I gather up the lot and throw it all away and feel bad in the process.

Another solution is to stop going to China Chili but they make a mean moo-shu.

Notes from the office

March 27, 2026 in Spo-Reflections | 20 comments

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The Overlords sent me an email the other day. It was quite wordy and set in a courteous tone, but really it was a long paragraph saying a simple story: I am not getting a raise. I wasn’t expecting one so I can’t say I was disappointed. Another email said the RVU (the extra cash we get for working beyond the standard) was being revised. The wording was even more vague but it looks like that’s being trimmed, the old meanies. I happen to know The Overlords are rolling in cash so cutting back on employer’s funds (while hiking up their premiums) makes them Stirges with a capital S.

The new incarnation of The Medical Assistant isn’t here yet. Apparently he/she is awaiting security clearance or something. How different this is compared to my previous bosses, a set of old hippie-types, who basically said ‘come on in’ and how they go. I hope he/she doesn’t get discouraged and go. Meanwhile I am being my own receptionist and scheduler. This isn’t difficult work but tedious to wear three hats. On the positive, the patients are loving it that their doctor is calling them directly on matters usually done by The Medical Assistant.

Another job I will betaken on is being my own credential maintenance man. There is some sort of central place where one goes to be accredited for insurance matters and the like. It needs updating every 90 days. For thirty years The House Manager has done this for me and now The Overlords say I have to do this myself. Oh the pain. It’s probably like any matter it will be difficult at first as I have never done it before, but there is a part of me that thinks this is the last straw, time for me to scram.. The worse case is I bungle I become ‘discredited’ and the howl from the upper echelons will resemble an orchestra of scorched cats enough to get someone to fix it for me. Or so I hope.

Today’s schedule is what shrinks sometimes call “Night of the Living Borderlines’. For thems unfamiliar with the term, folks with borderline personality have intense on/off hot/cold emotions which are often acted out in dramatic ways including self-injury and quick impulse decisions. They are challenging cases. My roster has six or more cases, which is too much. One or two cases keeps a shrink on his toes, as it were, but six it like having a cupful of hot sauce – way too much.

Another challenge is seeing a handful of folks coming in for their every twelve months in-office obligation. Most are cross at having to do so, on the grounds telehealth is fine and it takes time/arrange for time off to show up for their twenty minute look-see. How different things are, when in-office appointments were the norm! I am always seeing some ‘lost sheep’ viz. folks who haven’t been seen in ages now obliged to come in as they are overdue and can’t get prescriptions renewed until seen. These cases are always cross as I am fine so why do I have to come in complaints. By day’s end I will be rawther tired.

I was able to write this during one of the no-shows of the day. Thems with borderline personality do that often viz. acting out their mixed feelings about getting treated. Acting out is one thing but paying for a no-show is another matter.

On strike

March 26, 2026 in Spo-Reflections | Tags: , , , , | 35 comments

Note: this is an attempt at humor, written while I was being too serious about myself. Spo

According to my app that monitors my activity, I’ve had some sort of exercise every night now for an over a fortnight. I thought a break would be good. I planned to go home directly after work, which I did, knowing there was work-to-be-done tasks at home. To my happy surprise Someone (the dear!) did them: the dishes were done and the laundry was all folded and put away. Even the kitchen was all tided up. So there was nothing pressing to do. Hot puppies! I had a free night! The opportunities are endless; I could do all sorts of put-off projects and pleasures. So what did I do? Nothing, that’s what. After taking off my work clothes I fell into bed and did noting. No, I did worse than nothing, I doom-scrolled and played mindless games on the phone, neither concluding with a sense having had a pleasant past time. What a waste – or is it? Sometimes Psyche decides if I am not going to sit still she will plot me having a heart attack or a nervous breakdown she hasn’t determined which.

Sitting still is hard enough for Urs Truly but sitting still and ‘doing nothing’ is even more of a challenge.* It’s times like this I wish I had some Ritalin or something like it. Bourbon is a close second but I do not drink when home alone. Some archetype sitting at the inner board of directors needs to out-vote (or slap silly) the inner Midwesterner who finds doing nothing so horrible. If it can’t see reason then locking him in the walk-in closest could do. Truth is, even if I thought of something to do I feel too tired right now to do anything. It’s 8PM and I am nodding off as I type this. I’m turning into an old man who wants to retire right after dinner and wakes at 4AM.

Let your body be the guide, is a good rule but what if you body wants to eat an entire thin crust pizza (which I did) and get into bed and nothing else? When Someone comes home from work he’s going to find me asleep like a beached whale and no fun that. If he wants to talk we can do so at 4AM; I will be awake to do so.

*I could try meditation but my motives are wrong. I’ve hear tell The Dali Lama discourages Westerners doing meditation as they do it to feel good and not to make the world good.

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