I am too busy right now to talk to my folks about bills, but one of those bills, which came Saturday, is for our trash.  Mother suspended service while they were away.  I do generate trash, but not enough whereby something needs to be picked up every week.  Like I've said here, if I do have trash to throw away, I just take it to a gas station.

Anyway, this trash bill, to me, makes me think that Mother has asked for it again.  Which means they're coming home, and soon.  Goddammit.

I was going to blog post about how I'm getting fucked by my health insurance card, but my mind is so tired right now that I don't have the mental capabilities of going through my thoughts.  What I really, really want to do right now is sleep ... which isn't something I'm getting right now because my evenings in which I would use to catch up on rest I am instead watching the World Cup.  Oh God ... the headache I'm feeling right now is a sign I need to go to sleep.  So that's what I'm going to do now, and my well thought-out blog posts I'll blog post another day.

Left Pinky Toe Twitch

So for the past, oh, week or so I have noticed that my left pinky toe, and maybe my left ring toe, has been twitching.  I notice this when I'm at home.  Wonder if all my sitting down at work has anything to do with it.

I also wonder if it's Parkinson's.  If I recall correctly, Michael J. Fox noticed an uncontrollable twitch in one of his fingers while he and his wife were being driven by limo to some awards ceremony.  The finger was shaking so violently, and Fox was so spooked, that they had the limo driver drive around the block in the hopes that it would stop twitching.  Don't know if it did, but I think it was the first time Fox felt something was very, very wrong.  He got the diagnosis some time after.

Yeah, let's hope it's not Parkinson's.

I Don't Believe Her

So my cousin, who I haven't seen in at least a quarter-century and whose son is going to medical school here, wanted to know when I was free, right?  I asked if I could get back to her in the middle of the week so I could figure things out.  Well, the soccer results being what they were, I texted her on Wednesday -- like she asked me to -- and I told her that besides Saturday and Sunday morning, I was totally free for the weekend.

Then, nothing.  Well, I hadn't heard from her until yesterday/Friday.  Since I moved up my speakeasy visit from last/Friday night to Wednesday, last/Friday night was free for me, and that's when the both of them would get into town, so I figured that if last/Friday night was the only time the two of them could see me, I should text again.  She got back to me ... and she said sorry, they're busy, they can't see me this time around.  Maybe closer to the beginning of school, when they come back, but not now.

Sorry, I don't buy it.  At all.  She reached out to me, out of the blue.  She then called me, enthusiastically, asking when we could meet.  All I asked for was a few days and then I would get back to her, which I did.  And then my cousin just says, basically, whoops, can't see you?  I don't understand the about face at all.

Sure, I'll be dark and conspiratorial.  Maybe she decided that me asking, oh so gently, for some space and time was a rejection to her.  She took that as a sign that I didn't want to see her at all, which is not true at all.  My only other theory is that Father talked/got to her.  He had some dumb fucking thoughts in his head that when I said I needed to get back to her later, I really meant that I didn't want to be bothered, and so he told her to lie and say that she and her son realized they were busy.  I can't think of what else it could be, because I don't believe her when she texted me that they're busy.

Honestly, this hurts.  She wanted to see me and now she doesn't?  I blocked out some time and moved around some things so I could spend an afternoon or evening or day with them.  She basically said to forget it.  Don't understand.

I can't do anything except wait until my cousin and cousin once removed supposedly come back late in the summer to see if they really want to see me.  If they do, and we meet up, great.  If not ... why in the hell did she even ask for my phone number?

Oh, by the way, because my Friday night was free, I went back to my original plan of greeting The Beginning Of Summer by going to my speakeasy.  Yes, it was the second time in three nights.  I can't quit the place, and after this emotional whiplash, I needed a couple drinks.

Hooters Ain't The Only One

I swear there has been a rash of restaurant closings this year that I lament.  They don't hurt as much as Hooters, of course.  And honestly, I have been trying to come up with a list, but can't think of too many.  I've already talked about the Taco Bell that was near me.  (By the way, nothing has gone in in its place yet.  Taco Bell disappeared, furnishings and signage and all, in a day, but that place has remained empty for weeks now.  The hell?)

The one that comes to mind right now is the local Subway.  When I was in high school, the place where it was, located at a strip mall not too far away from the high school, was the place to be, sad as it might seem now.  But it was dependable and good enough, and so that's where we all went (and for me, to get those stamps you lick and stick on those cards in order to get a free sub).

What the owners of that place more than several years ago was move to an even bigger place across the street.  That's investment, and I love that.  It was clean, and I was treated well every time I went there.  Unfortunately, it was empty too much of the time.  I wanted to go there more often, but there are so many other places to eat out, both in the fast food and the fancy lanes.  I tried to support them whenever I had the urge to, but it wasn't enough.  A few weeks ago, when I drove by during the day, I didn't see their "OPEN" light on and there was no car outside.  And maybe last week, all the Subway signage was taken down.  I feel sad because it feels as though the owner took a risk based on previous success, but whether it was the bigger size of the restaurant, the new location, something else, or all of the above, it, well, backfired.

And even though it's not my responsibility because I can't eat out every single day or else I'll go broke, I worry about the places I eat out at going under.  There's that speakeasy I haven't been to since March Madness.  It's expensive to go there, but I still want it to be around when I want to go there.  And there's a mom-and-pop panaderia close by me.  Their pastries and croissants and baked goods are fantastic, and the layout looks lush and wonderful, and I barely see anyone whenever I go there.  I hate to come across it one day and see it gone.  But again, I'm not made out of money.  What can I do?

I blame Trump.  Seriously, with all the shit he's done in order to line his pockets, I think it's sensible to blame his corrupt ass.

Farewell, Neighbor (Whom I've Talked To Maybe Twice)

The neighbor across the street is moving.  Have seen some stirrings for a month now, but the "For Sale" sign makes it real.  That came up maybe a week ago.  The huge dumpster (like the one I threw my trash into last week) was on their driveway maybe a couple weeks ago.  And the moving truck was there when I woke up today.

I literally may have spoken ... no, come to think of it, I should accurately describe it as "interacted" with the members of the family that lives/lived there two times.  Once, when my niece was little, one kid who lives there, while he was being held by his father (the head of the household) offered her candy, and my niece freaked out.  The other time, the sons were playing catch (they had baseball uniforms on, so they may have come back from practice or a Game) and a baseball rolled to the edge of my driveway; I threw it back, poorly, to one of them.  And that's it.  I never had an issues with them.  They were the perfect, quiet neighbors who left me alone.

So I feel bad that I'm not saying goodbye to them as they're moving.  But, what would I say?  What kind of small talk could I come up with, especially since I made no talk with any of them while they were here?  And yet, when I came home from shopping earlier this afternoon and I saw the whole family running about, I thought about going there and saying hi.  But, I haven't.  And I probably won't.

A Sign -- Leaning Against A Dumpster, But Maybe From Above -- Told Me To Not Dump Illegally

Saturday I had a few things I needed to do.  Before scooting over to the bank to grab some money, I was going to take out the trash because the can is full.  Now, because I create such little waste (thank you very much for your applause) my parents cancelled trash service because it wasn't necessary.  We figure instead that I can just go to a gas station and throw it in one of their garbage cans, right?

But inattentive me drove past the gas station.  I saw the bank when I realized I forgot to dump the trash, but I was too exasperated to drive back to the gas station.  Not knowing what to do, what appeared before me, like an oasis in the desert, was this huge, industrial-size dumpster just outside the local clinic, which is right next to the bank.  Score!  So I didn't have to double back at all; I just parked and tossed the bag of trash into the dumpster.  Problem solved!

It was a long day for me, but it was a day filled with fun.  After attending the MNUFC Loss (I'll talk about it in the WMNSS), I went to a local brewery now known for showing Timberwolves playoff Games outside on their parking lot.  On my way from where I parked my car to the brewery, I noticed in a parking lot (this is located in an industrial area) a huge dumpster, one much bigger than the one at the clinic.  And there was what appeared to be a giant whiteboard or poster board leaning against it.  It has words on it.  I like to read things, and I had time before the Game started, so I broke off and walked down to the parking lot to read it.

Paraphrasing, it said, "Do not throw your trash in here.  That's illegal dumping.  We have cameras all pointed at this parking lot.  If you do dump your trash here, we'll find you, and we'll catch you.  So smile, you're on Candid Camera!"

Oh, shit.  I didn't think I would get in trouble, but a part of me thought while I was tossing in my bag that I wasn't absolutely sure I wouldn't get in trouble.  This may be serendipity or pure dumb coincidence, but I took it as a sign that I shouldn't throw my trash where I guess I'm not allowed to throw it.

So, once the Game was done (the Wolves won!), I went back to the clinic.  I was able to fish out the bag of trash, and, come to think of it, the gas station was on the way back home.  So I put it there, where I initially intended to toss it.  So, to use a basketball phrase, no harm, no foul, right?  Well, I'll see if the local police knock on my door in the next week for something I made right.

Tingling/Numbness Now Scaring Me

Just want to put down for the record that there has been tingling and numbness I've been feeling -- mostly in my right hand and wrist and forearm, but really everywhere, for the past ... oh, seven days or so.  It's carpal tunnel, even though I feel a lot of pain on the corner of my wrist just below the pinky, if you're asking me to pinpoint one thing.

I think this is a combination of factors coming home to roost -- having my work mouse too far from my reach, all those times I've had to grip an exacto knife to cut open packages at work, my nasty habit of holding up my cellphone with one of my chargers attached to it, and lying down while looking up at my laptop, which I too hold with my hands and thus with my forearms holding it up.

Keep doing exercises all week, but it's not working out.  I still feel this general numbness that sticks around at times, and in certain gripping positions I feel a sharp pain at the corner of my wrist.  I sleep with a brace on now, and it sometimes works.  I've begun to take pills, too, but I don't know if that will work.

Honestly, as far-fetched as this sounds, I'm just hoping that it's some virus, or some blip that my body is going to take care of, and this will all be gone in a week.  But I've had this pain, although in a slightly less acute and frequent form, for months now.  This might get worse, I'm afraid.

I Want To Know When I Need To Go Into Work, That's All

Now, I preface this by saying that I'm blog posting this due to unusual circumstances, namely that my co-worker is going to be out for a while because she is hurting in a big way, though I don't specifically know why or how.  One would think that would be an acceptable reason to see one's schedule change, even though that would mean a change in time you start your shift, like my job does.

But most of the time -- and again, I'm not blaming anyone, this rises only to the level of annoyance -- I don't know what I'm doing at work, and therefore I don't know what time I need to get in, sometimes until my last day of my workweek (usually Friday), and sometimes I don't know until I get in to start my workweek (usually Monday).  Beyond knowing what time I need to get in and thus knowing what time I need to set my alarm, I would want to know what I'm doing -- whether I'm doing data entry, I'm in The Third Department, or The Fourth -- before next week starts so I can get into the right frame of mind.  Each different position requires doing different things, obviously, and I want to know what I'm expected to do each day of the week before that week begins.  Again, I understand I might not know when I want to know.  Things come up, such as my co-worker being in traction for a while.  Also, my boss is real busy.

But when things change on me, I have to alter my plans.  Let me be selfish and rant here.  I was given my work schedule for this week on Friday.  There, I was supposed to come in to work early on Friday only.  And considering we have been asked to stay beyond our shift to key almost on a regular basis since, oh, the year started, my plan was to work a bit extra yesterday/Tuesday, go to the post office downtown, mail my taxes, then celebrate by going to a fancy restaurant downtown.

My co-worker being out injured switched around my entire week.  Now, my early day was, actually, yesterday/Tuesday.  And while I had to stay a bit after to get all the data entry done, I got done before the post offices (at least the ones here) closed at 5.  That meant I didn't have to pay for parking downtown to file my taxes at the downtown post office, which closes at 8.  Yeah, that could be seen as a good thing.  But I don't like it when my plans are changed for me, even if it means I could get home earlier than I thought and wouldn't have to pay for parking, which is a huge pet peeve of mine.  I spent a substantial portion of my workday wondering if I should just go to downtown anyway, even though I would be there way earlier than I thought.  Ultimately, though, the facts that I could mail my taxes before the conventional workday was over and could do it without paying for parking convinced me I should move this dinner at the fancy restaurant, which I was looking forward to, to another day.  (I also realized that the Twins were playing at Target Field last/Tuesday night.  I don't think they're getting any crowds, even though they're playing quite well right now, but I didn't want to risk any chance of losing my temper over traffic.)

However, having my evening freed up invited another opportunity I had to spend some mental bandwidth contemplating: Working out.  I haven't been to my gym in weeks, and after bellyaching over, well, my aching belly after eating so much while watching the WNBA Draft Monday night, this might be a sign that I could, and should, work out.  But I remembered I also had a plan of finishing off the two ginger beers that have been open for weeks in a dark 'n' stormy.  Not knowing what to do, I decided to go home after eating dinner at a mom-and-pop Mexican restaurant and try and sleep.  If I couldn't lose consciousness in half an hour, I'd get up and work out.  Instead, I woke up around 7:30.  I walked up and down the street for exercise instead.  And I drank my cocktail.

Still feel kind of bad I haven't gone to the community center.  But that's what happens when your work schedule changes on you.

Help Me, Bill Shatner, I'm Not Regular!

At the college baseball Games yesterday/Saturday, I had coffee before the first Game, had a cheeseburger, fries and a beer between the first and second (aside: They screwed up my order ... I ordered a cheeseburger, I overheard someone order just a hamburger [even though a hamburger isn't on the menu and I don't ever ask for modifications from ordering food at a Game], someone was about to give me a cheeseburger but then yanked it back to swap it with a hamburger ... when I told the workers I wanted cheese, someone in the back just threw a cold slice of cheddar on top of the burger ... I saw the cheeseburger they were about to give me; that cheese was melted ... lazy bums), and a hot dog and a souvenir Wild Cherry Pepsi between the second and third.  And then, once the Games were done, I stopped by Taco Bell.

You know what this should mean, right?  Colon blow, stuff like that.  Nope.  I am not regular.  It's bothering me to no end.  Maybe the spaghetti I'm about to make will do the trick, but the trick should already have been done.

Now, about relieving yourself: Have you seen that cereal commercial with William Shatner?  The one where he calls himself "Will Shat?"  I believe this ad, which aired in the Super Bowl, is a sign of the end times:

I blame Trump.  But sheepishly I admit that I really, really want to try this to regulate my gut.  It's for Kellogg's Raisin Bran, by the way.  I rarely remember what memorable commercials advertise for.

My All-Time Favorite Nourishes Me ... With Food!

Because it was Valentine's Day, I did what any romantic would do and visited my ATF at My Favorite Stripclub (Cover Division) to rain money on her.  I texted her if she was working last/Saturday night; after initially thinking she might not, earlier in the week she confirmed that she was.

In our text exchange, she asked me if I like chocolate.  I love chocolate!  And after she got back down from stage -- we saw each other, we got to do table dances, then she had to go onstage, but then we did more table dances once she was done with her set -- she gave me Ghirardelli chocolates that she bought.  Did she buy them for me?  Maybe, maybe not.  But I don't care -- she thought of me enough to buy me chocolates for Valentine's Day!

I don't think I blog posted about this: When I saw her last, about a month ago, she surprised me with cookies she apparently baked from home.  I was freaking the fuck out about this siege this fuckin' Republican government put on us, but I really wanted to see her now that my parents have gone.  She was trying to calm me down, and so I think she thought the way she could do that is to feed me.  And trust me, the cookies were delicious.  The flour she used was so fluffy, yet so buttery.  I ate them up at work.

I have a new appreciation for her.  It may not be a grand gesture, but making and buying food for a customer is a signal that she's feeding me, that she's looking out for me, and that, dare I say it, she cares about me.  I ... love that she did that for me.

Those Motherfuckers

Today I woke up around 11:30.  I think my body told me I only needed six hours of sleep.  But, I think I was trying to loll around my bed to get more shuteye anyway.

I couldn't.  I was woken up by a car horn being honked incessantly.  I think they say that when you hear a horn getting honked repeatedly, that means that those people are not only around, but they're about to take someone.

Those sons-of-bitches are still here, goddammit, and they might finally be reaching our street.

---

Not too long ago, my phone blew up.  Emergency text.  Some kid is missing.  But this is no Amber Alert, at least I don't think.  The missing child is a Latino boy.

I saw on the tracker website that an observer saw activity at an address close to the one given on the alert.  Poor boy made a run for it, I reckon.  I don't know how he's going to survive because this is the one cold night we'll have for at least the next couple weeks.  But if there are gods, let him run free.

My Own Personal Lockdown

So I got home, without incident, at around 5:45 last/Thursday night.  I had to open the door again because I got a delivery.  But, once I shut my door at around 5:50 p.m., I did so with the firm intention of not opening it until Sunday afternoon.

Yeah, so like I said in a previous blog post, since I didn't get the Wild gig I thought I was going to get, that opened up the possibility that I could take today/Friday off in solidarity with the general strike (which is also in the vein of a nationwide walkout for which I did my best to participate in by leaving work Tuesday afternoon).  And, it just so happens that the most brutal cold snap in what seems to be at least a few winters is descending on us this weekend, the worst of which is happening right now through this/Friday afternoon.  When there is more than one sign pointing you in a certain direction, you best pay heed.  And so, with the blessing of my new boss and my co-workers, I am staying in from now through the weekend (which means that not getting the Wild job is a blessing in disguise; I would otherwise have to be running around the tunnels underneath Grand Casino Arena and driving around town, and then I would have to hang out during the Game at the compound where there is no heat while temperatures plummet).

I'll admit it: I don't want to get my ass kicked.  But how can I show my support against fascism without sticking my neck out?  By not working or shopping today, which many faith leaders in the Twin Cities has asked us to do in order to get these motherfuckers out of our safe, diverse community.  I could march downtown Minneapolis like a lot of people are planning to do, but dammit, the government will get my face, plus it's brutally cold.  (And I wonder if it would have been better to march through a part of the city where more immigrants reside, but I'm not marching, so who am I to scold?)  So I get to protest by going to bed late, getting up late, and not working?  That's a win-win!

I am in awe of the list of local businesses (as well a few places in Duluth and Rochester) that are shutting down in solidarity, which are listed courtesy of Bring Me The News.  You know this economic blackout (coming on a Friday, natch) is getting to be pretty fucking serious when even Dreamgirls, the downtown strip club where I have had a lot of fun before (even though it's been years), is participating in the shutdown.  I think people are getting the message that a lot of places they would go to shop and dine and, well, get lap dances won't be open today/Friday.  So, for those businesses, especially the local ones, that will remain open, will they make enough money to justify being open?  Remember that there is a polar vortex happening right now.  A shop or a restaurant may not care one way or the other about what's happening in our community, but it might not be worth it to open because it's so goddamn cold.  And I think there will be brownie points given if they choose not to open.  Does it matter if it's really because to save money when you can just say you're standing with your neighbors in the face of federal occupation?  It may not be for the right reason, but that's a compromise I'm willing to take.

As for myself, I intend to just chill for the next, oh, 66 hours or so ... and hope that these people don't knock on my door.  I have thought about just not answering, which is what I hear more and more people are doing when they hear a knock on the door.  But that might not matter because these pricks have been given permission to violate the Fourth Amendment of the Constitution and just bust the door down.  You know, I hate guns, but this is the point where I have to consider invoking my Second Amendment rights.  Maybe more on that later, if this siege continues.

It is profoundly sad that, as much as I want to feel safe at home, I don't feel 100% safe here right now.  I can't even enjoy sanctuary where I live because of this out-of-control Republican government?  We don't live in a democracy anymore.  And I hope my personal lockdown expressing that anger is a valuable contribution to the Resistance.

Where The Hell Did Our Tree Go?

I came home, Kentucky Fried Chicken in hand, on Tuesday to see something missing in our front yard.  We had two trees, and the one closer to the street is gone, with only its scarred stump and shards of wood shavings left in its place.  I asked my folks, who presumably were at home all day and thus noticed this chopping down of our tree, about it.  They didn't call for it to be removed, nor did they stop it, and they didn't even open the front door to ask what was going on.  They just observed this tree, which has been there my whole life, being cut down and hauled away.

No idea they were doing this.  Now, I have read the city newsletter, published four times a year, where some trees in town had to be either treated for, um, whatever disease is going through the neighborhood or, failing that, chopped down.  When I was mowing the lawn this year, I noticed a small medallion hanging from a nail nailed into the bark of this tree with some numbers on it.  I thought that meant that this tree had been treated.  Maybe that meant that the tree was slated for removal, even though I wonder, if that is what that is, why it took till Christmastime to do take the tree away.

Just in case, I should call the city to make sure they're the ones who did it.  Then again, my folks weren't told they had to pay for the tree, so it's probably legit, though strange in how the city went about doing it.

Now I think, or I am reminded, that my runny nose and aching legs is something that seems to happen the weather gets colder or snowier.  And I've been blowing my nose like the dickens all day at work yesterday/Friday.  I thought I had it under control when I went to bed.  This sounds weird, but I could tell the moment, the exact moment, when my sinuses, which was running like a burst dam, completely shut.  I could tell because I don't think I slept at all last night.

Alas, my sinuses got to running again once I got out into the cold, and my nose kept running while I was working.  It's gotten worse since I got home.

Heat, intense heat, has always seemed to shut off my sinuses and snot-running.  I need to do that, but I need to finagle the space heater from Mother's new bedroom, and then, maybe my parents won't like me using so much energy to run the space heater until my room feels like a sauna.  But I work outside at the Gopher football Game Saturday, and I want to shop tomorrow/Friday, and I need to be as healthy as possible, and to do that, I need to warm my body up.

I am cocooning for the next day and a half, and I appreciate doing so instead of being out and about, but I still feel quite crummy, and I can't afford to remain this sick.

Nope, The Car's Broken, Probably

No rhythmic crinkling still; the lug nut fixed that.  Still, I am worried about the oil.  Last week I put in, like, 100 mL because, according to the very unreadable orange dipstick, it was low.  I checked after I put in the oil and the level went up, so it looks as though putting oil in helps.

But that dipstick seems to be low whenever I check it these days.  I thought I should check it again, this week, just to see.  And I did that after work yesterday/Monday, and goddammit, the level is lower.  Maybe not low, but it's concerning because, beyond going from downtown Minneapolis to Cedar-Riverside, I didn't really go anywhere in the week or so since I dumped oil in it.

Winter literally is coming.  It'll snow tonight/Tuesday night, and then the cold is coming in and will settle for the time being.  Not ideal oil-adding weather.  So after I came home and ate dinner, I threw in some more oil.  Nothing more than a quarter-quart if that, but if the dipstick is supposed to be an indication of how low I am down to a quart, that line when I check it again should go back up.

And fuckin' A, I immediately regretted it.  What if I put in too much?  That's why I didn't put in half a quart.  I don't want to overfill it.  But I can't underfill it either, so what happens if what I put in is still not enough?  Every car I have to put in oil becomes fucking Goldilocks, for God's sake.  And why in the hell am I putting in oil twice less than a week?  If I have to, that's a sign that my car's going through it way more than it should.  Or, maybe it's not going through oil as fast as I think it is, and I'm just fucking paranoid because I've been traumatized by my cars not working in years past.  Fuck if I know.

I have half a mind to bring my car quickly to my mechanic, again -- just to ask him if there are any oil leaks, and then maybe ask if to teach me how to read the damn dipstick.  But like I said before, they probably are closed Wednesday afternoon.  Plus, the weather is going to be bad then, so I don't know if they'd be in a mood to indulge my anxieties.  Oh, and they might charge me to do that, too.

I'm scared I filled my engine with too much oil, and I'm also scared that my engine will run out of oil a week from now.  Goddamn, I hate being afraid of what my car will do.

Car's Broken Again

For the past few days I have heard a sound.  It was a rhythmic clicking sound that came from the passenger-side rear, maybe the tire, maybe not.  But as I was parking on my way to another bar, I heard the sound, only louder.  Maybe it was my team losing that led to me being quieter and/or more paranoid about hearing things, but this clicking noise became quite audible.

And while I could drive, I felt as though the car was ... not as in good a shape as it should be?  It was shaking down the highway ... maybe.  Great -- I'm back to asking myself whether I can limp this car around for a while or if I have to drop everything and get this fixed right away.

And if it's the latter -- and I usually panic, so it's usually the latter -- I can't get it fixed right away.  Auto shops are never open on the weekend, and I assume this place is already booked up for tomorrow.  Tuesday I have to use the car to take Father to his dental appointment in the mid-morning, and I have to get to work by noon or else.  Wednesday I report to work early.  Thursday's Thanksgiving.  Friday I have the day off, but I really want to do so some shopping then, so maybe I don't want to bring my car in then, especially if there is something really wrong with the click-clacking.  Maybe I can bring it in Wednesday afternoon after work since I get to leave early, too.  But for all I know, my mechanic will be shutting things down as soon as Wednesday afternoon.  Hell, they might be taking the whole week off.

This fucking sucks, and I hate life.

Some Fucker Gave Me This ... Whatever I'm Feeling

So I was hosting my alumni event yesterday/Saturday when my new-found friend told me something interesting: He says he has gotten over a cold.  I remember telling all of you that this ailment I'm still suffering from I think I got last Saturday, when I was also hosting my alumni event.  There was only three of us.  The third person, who I thought was going to be there yesterday/Saturday, was not.  My new-found friend, who looks to be close friends with this third friend, texted him.  And this third friend said he is still in bed because he hasn't been feeling well all week.

Huh.  So my guess in that blog post that whatever I've come down with I got Saturday at this bar probably is true because the two other people I was with also came down with something.  Honestly, I thought what I came down with I got from one of these two dudes.  Still could be the case; I'm no epidemiologist.  But this gives more credence the possibility that someone within our vicinity was sick and gave us this virus or bacteria or whatever.  Come to think of it, while I was there, we had to deal with a bunch of rowdy young White dudes who were on this side of out of control.  This group dropped at least two glasses of beer between them.  And I overheard one of them use the word "retard."  Those signs put together make me think that none of those douches were really conscientious about staying home if they felt a tickle in their throat.

Just used another (expired) COVID test.  The first one was negative, but that was five days ago, and again, these tests may be expired.  Also, I drank some NyQuil just now.  I don't have to be anywhere today/Sunday, so I'll just hope this knocks me the eff out so my body can work on expelling whatever is continuing to make my nose run.

Think I'm Coming Down With Something

Starting on Sunday during work.  Felt achy that evening.  Had a huge, cycle-wrecking nap in the evening, but felt kind of the same.  And then during my real job yesterday/Monday I started getting the sniffles, and then after work the aches came back with a vengeance.  Uh-oh.

This felt like COVID.  The main thing I noticed when I got the virus is that my nose was running constantly, and that is happening now.  I just took a test, though, and it turned out negative.  Then again, it's more than two years old.

Welp, I took some NyQuil.  My nose is totally dry now.  Feel oogy, however.  And my aches and pains are still around.  But I'm tired, which might be my body's way of saying it needs me to rest while it fights off whatever it is is invading my body, even though I took another long nap this evening.

I wonder where I got it from.  If I started coming down with it on Sunday, I probably caught it Saturday, and the only social thing I did indoors with a lot of people was the game-watching event downtown.  Probably got it there, darn it.

The Break I Needed

Spent yesterday/Wednesday in the lab doing the packages.  And goddammit, I spent, including my morning break, a bit more than four hours and 15 minutes back there.  Swear to God, it used to be 2 1/2 hours max.  I have no idea why in the hell my past few trips in the lab have been so long and laborious.  But they have been, and so the massage I arranged between work and the MNUFC Match (they fucking lost to San Luis, for fuck's sake) was worth it, even if I ruined my ideal post-massage comedown by eating a Jucy Lucy and egg rolls at Allianz Field.

Anyway, I was back there for so long that when I got out, my shift was in its lunch break.  I thought with all my standing around, my body would be so tired that I would pass out immediately.  Didn't happen.  It seems I was too wired and achy to rest.  But once I got back from my lunch break to finally sit down and type, my body was shutting down.  I felt I needed sleep now, and forget any illogic about how I tried to get some shut-eye a scant half-hour ago.

But my afternoon break was coming up.  I needed about an hour, but at 1 I marched back out to my car, closed my eyes ... and I was woken up by my phone alarm, a dozen minutes later.  My dragging body suddenly felt alert, and I powered through the rest of the day with ease.

Naps are good, y'all.  Never, ever underestimate them.