Tuesday, August 9, 2016
DRINK DRANK DRUNK
I've been plagued with the same problem ever since I was in my teens.
You mean drinking, Jon?
Hell, no. Drinking isn't a problem. It's a pleasure. I'm talking about insomnia. Acute insomnia. Tossing, turning, thinking, agonizing, worrying, listening to the grandfather clock chime every hour and half hour from midnight until 6:00 a.m.
By dawn, I'm hanging by my toes from the ceiling while emitting primal screams.
This absolute absence of shuteye happens every time I know I have to get up and go somewhere.
Today I had to make the dreaded drive into town - which means having to navigate an ENDLESSLY harrowing roller coaster track of narrow, winding mountain roads.
Try doing that when when you have a crack in your windshield, and your old contact lenses keep fogging up so badly that everything looks like the coast of Newfoundland at dawn on a bad day.
Why don't you get the crack fixed, Jon?
Because I'd rather spend the money on booze so I have the courage to drive to town.
Why don't you try soft contact lenses?
I'm wearing soft contacts, Kemo Sabe. And I'd have better vision if I wore a pair of x-ray glasses from an ad in a Superman comic book. I'm thinking of switching back to gas permeable.
To make matters worse (if that's humanly possible), the weather was against me.
You mean it rained again?
Nope. The sun appeared. Let me expound:
Here in rural Tennessee it rains nearly every day of the year. The sun is more rare than Hillary telling the truth.
(I deliberately threw that in to piss off my readers).
Today, as I got in my car and ventured out on the mountain road, the clouds miraculously cleared, the sun came out, and the temperature in my unairconditioned Hellmobile soared to 380 degrees.
So, I was not only sightless but also perspiring profusely. Not to mention drunk.
Jon, you're a DOA just waiting to happen.
Well, I wasn't exactly drunk. I merely had enough beer to expunge my apprehension, stunt my reflexes, and inspire me to sing a medley from South Pacific.
By the time I got to the Walmart parking lot, I was sweating like a Tijuana whore during a Saturday night gangbang, and marveling at the fact that I knew all the words to Bali Hai.
Did anything good happen to you today, Jonathan?
Yes! As I was pushing my way through the moping mob of ample-assed, unwashed hillbillies I suddenly saw a sign that brought joy to my dismal existence.
VACUUM CLEANERS WERE ON SALE!!!
I used to have three vacuum cleaners - two massive Hoovers and a small Dirt Devil. These were among the 100 or so items that the movers "lost" when I came to Tennessee.
These marked-down Walmart dirt suckers were a gift from God. I grabbed one.
That left me with no money to buy the new tile for my two bathroom floors, but I'll go back to town and buy that next week. Fortunately I stocked up on enough beer to make mountain road navigation a breeze.
I have more to say but I'll save it. Too much of a good thing can be dangerous.
Oh, one more thing before I go. My cell phone STILL isn't working - - in case you try to text (family & friends). I'll get it straightened out soon.