ROAD BLOG AHEAD

I am getting bored with this sick thing. Doc Ellen just left and guess what boyz and grrls? I’ve got fucking pneumonia! Just when you thought I was out of the woods, here comes another whammy!

Woke up this a.m. still running a fever, lightheaded and my chest just plain hurts. I suspected a problem when I realized how much it hurt every time I coughed. So I left a message for my precious doctor saying “help!” and she did. What a sweetie - she ran over with her kit, plus a course of a different antibiotic than I’ve been taking, one which should hopefully knock this thing out - PLUS another vat of soup. Listened to my lungs and said oh oh! And put me to bed with the whole “lots of hot liquids, steam, sleep, antibiotics and anti fever stuff and call me if it gets worse or doesn’t get better by morning.”
I’ll tell you - this beats the hell out of a trip to the emergency room. Which is where I’d be if she weren’t around.

So I’m trying to figure out how to get as much as I can done while lying in bed. I don’t really have the wind for long phone calls. I can do some computer stuff, but not the things that require stacks of papers and references. I’m returning lots of non-critical e-mails, which is good and hopefully getting my database fixes done.

Maybe I’ll break down and watch a video. I rarely ever watch anything, but this might be a good time for mindless entertainment. Wondering if I can talk Nyondo into letting me get my hands on the “Kill Bill” I & II dvds I bought her for her birthday? She’s kinda touchy about things like that. I don’t have cable so I’m pretty much limited to what’s in the house. And, since we’re not TV watchers, the selection is pretty slim.

It looks like it’s gonna rain soon. Which has me chuckling. Psycho landlord did his sanding this morning and then primed the wall for painting. I would just love to watch it rain. I’m not normally vindictive, but I do have some appreciation for Mother Nature’s little practical jokes and, if she decides to listen to my occasional prayers, more power to her.

Oh, one of the odd things (so when aren’t there odd things around here?) - The psycho has a dead truck parked in the driveway. Actually, I think it runs but he’s collected so many tickets and let his registration lapse so he doesn’t dare take it off private property. This came about right about the time when he started going off the deep end, late summer. Prior to that he was eccentric but mostly pretty functional. Anyway, in the past 48 hours some time, a large wooden sign appeared on top of the truck. It appears to be from a carnival midway. Brightly colored shapes adorn it and, in huge letters, the words “Drench The Dunce!” No clue why it’s there or where it came from. Every time I see it, I have the impulse to say, “Oh,okay, I will” and turn the hose on the psycho.

Dealing with this bozo, I keep thinking about Ladee who streamlined life and is living simply in a nice little RV down in Southern California. Lena and I have talked about doing just that and it is sounding more and more appealing all the time! I think the trick will be finding the size RV that pleases both of us. She wants teeny tiny. I have to remind her that I’m six feet tall. I’m thinking mediumish - something that one can park and run into Safeway, but where I could actually stand up without giving myself a concussion. No more psycho to contend with would be a fair tradeoff for a certain amount of space I’m thinking.

Well, it’s all speculation. I’m certainly stuck where I’m at through the summer at least. And, the way life tends to pop up with surprises, just about anything could happen by then.

Later…
It rained. And I look out my office window and there’s the psycho, standing out in the pouring rain painting the side of the garage. His movements were frantic and jerky and he’s shaking, but he kept painting and painting. And the faster it rained, the faster he was trying to paint, as though he believes that, if he moves fast enough, he can beat Mother Nature. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. And, of course, the paint washed off in streaks and now the wall looks like absolute hell. I guess he was determined that, if he’d sanded and primed the wall, he was, by gods, gonna paint it like he intended. I wonder when he last slept?