I’m supposed to be writing a report right now, but I’m not interested in doing it. That should be no surprise; my motivation for just about anything has sunk to such low levels that I might need two life-times for it to come back far enough for me to break even. I don’t know what’s driving it, but I am just not “here” right now, and it’s driving me nuts.
My visit to the physician was mixed. They’ve finally listened to me about some of my issues – X-rays were taken, medicine prescribed, blood and fluids stolen – but I’ve yet to hear what any of that actually means. My father used to tell me that if doctors took a long time to respond to you, or if they asked you to come in to their offices, that meant that whatever ailed you was minor and could be fixed; worst case scenario, you were absolutely fine.
“They’ll call you in so that they can charge you again,” he said. “If you were dying, they’d tell you over the phone so that they can wash their hands of you.”
He’s right. Well, it’s been almost two days now since our last contact – mainly due to us playing phone tag – but my guess is that I’m going to be just fine. A few more drugs will be added to my growing list of pharmaceuticals (Yay me) but I’m guessing that I’ll live. Whether that will be pain-free is another issue, I suppose.
I may have made a monumental mistake and I can see now that I’ll likely pay for it for years to come.
While perusing the grocery shelves, I stumbled across a box of “Shake and Bake,” and foolishly, I bought it.
If you’re not familiar with “Shake and Bake,” it’s a breading/topping for chicken (there’s a pork version, too, tho’ sadly, the hamburger version is lost to the ages) that began in the 1970s. Essentially, you take your chicken pieces, wash them, and put them – one at a time – into a provided plastic bag filled with the breading. Close up the open end of the bag (it’s sad that I have to note this part), and then shake it up to coat the meat. Then, put the coated chicken on your baking tray. Repeat until you’re out of chicken. Toss the bag; bake the bird.
It’s actually quite good.
But it’s something I had neither seen nor tasted since I was but Wee Furious, so when I saw it, I knew I had to grab it. At the very least, it’d be a funny cultural thing, right? With so many nostalgia foods coming out – Pepsi in its late ’70s style cans, Doritos with its ’70s-ish bag, and now Shake and Bake – it’d make for a cool weekend of watching bad movies, bad television, and bad clothing decisions. Ah, memories.
I definitely didn’t expect the Little Woman to be on board, but she was – curious about this food product she’d never seen before. (I kid you not – the Little Woman apparently never even set foot into a supermarket until she met me.) I thought she’d scoff at this funny looking baked chicken breast, say a few choice words to me, and then scoot off to rummage through the refrigerator in search of an alternate meal. But she didn’t.
She loves it.
“Is there more of the ‘Shakes and Bakes’?” she asked. Shakes and Bakes – it’s so cute!
She thought this was the greatest thing since sliced bread, and while that’s usually a good thing, for me it means that we’re going to have it far more often than I’d otherwise planned. That’s no biggie, I guess; she enjoys it and that’s what matters.
Shakes and Bakes. She’s killing me . . .
Today I see the dentist, in what will surely be another ‘Yay me’ moment. I had a tooth break in half about six months ago. Maybe more than that; I forget. I just know that after the initial damage, things were reasonably fine until two weeks ago. An infection hit the nerve and . . . you know. When the worst of the pain hit, it took all of the Little Woman’s physical and mental strength to pry those pliers from my hands. After trying to self-medicate (with Tylenol, and it turns out that I was under-medicating – who knew?) I relented and went to a dentist. She figured out what was wrong and we scheduled an appointment for today.
Except that three days ago, my dentist cancelled due to a “family issue.” Actually, the phrase used was “life-affecting family issue,” so I’m guessing that it’s far more than wanting to see her nephew’s recital. I’m being glib, and I shouldn’t be – I really do hope that all is well for her. I was passed on to another dentist – who, as luck would have it – doesn’t perform the type of procedure I need done. So it’s off to a third dentist, who is doing me “a favor” by taking my case (say what?) but the trade-off is that the time was moved back some three hours. My day is now officially screwed up, but hopefully I can salvage something from it. The cool part is that the dental office is literally on top of a shop that I need to visit, so I should be able to kill two birds with one stone – or in this case, with one visit.
I’m starting to think that my ramblings about Chris might not have been in vain.
Life can get really interesting when you actually listen to what’s going on around you. In this case, I’ve learned that I’m not the only target of Chris’ attitude – that there have been others who’ve been equally victimized by this nonsense, and for reasons far less apparent than my own (which are non-existent). Individuals wallowing in individual anger, seemingly unaware that there are others with the same frustrations for the same reasons. Younger Me would have tried to rally everyone together like some misguided Frodo determined to destroy the One Ring. But Older Me realizes how awful that idea is; experience can be one heck of a teacher. Besides, this isn’t high school – what am I supposed to do, get the gang together to plan at the malt shop after Sixth Period?
So, I sit, doing nothing. The universe has a way of leveling itself when its been knocked askew; it needs no help from me.
Not yet, anyway.