Good Morning Dispossessed,
Why is it that well intentioned endeavors that seem on the surface anyway, to be sound and sensible often supported by our associates, nearly always end up blindsiding us? Grief and humiliation will of course take its toll, but it seems our collective lot in life is to fail! Will it forever be our fate to watch what begins as wise and good turn into shit? Life’s rich pageant is mostly adlibbing dealing with what is tossed our way good or bad. Being quick on my feet has always been one of my best assets, but hardly describes my weepy eyed reactions these days and is no longer automatic.
Almost always bad news requires change. Even knowing this, I tend to resist change until I’m forced to address it. Ideally one would want to do this on one’s own terms than to have the resolution dictated to us without options. Like my friend the Bagwan, I’ve always been good at telling others what they should have done. While life never comes with guarantees, it’s easy to Monday morning Quarterback isn’t it? It’s those that can see things coming and take the necessary steps to either take advantage of or lessen the impact of these ‘things’ I strive to be part of. At best it’s a 50/50 proposition.
I found myself enjoying a chicken pot pie from Boston Market sipping a fine Pinot Noir but couldn’t help but notice how the CPP and wine colors were at odds with each other lessening my experience. It forced primary colors to mix which is always considered bad form. Burgundy red mixed with snot yellow, carrots, and peas comingling within a pie crust was just plain wrong. Nevertheless it was eaten and washed down with the wine; heartburn waiting in the wings.
I took a Prilosec and cleaned up the packaging, paper plate, and cellophane then decided to take a walk to watch the sunset. Approaching me was an attractive woman I’d seen before walking her little dog. As I got close the little vicious animal began to bark and froth at me straining at the leash. The incessant yapping of little dogs is in my top ten annoyances and this one was hell bent on killing me.
Generally I’m pretty good with dogs, plus I wanted to introduce myself to its attractive owner. So I extended my hand and moved toward her. This drove the little fur-ball crazy and the little shit didn’t hesitate to bite me on my bare ankle; drawing blood! Shocked, Carol insisted I go to her apartment (around the corner) so she could administer to my wound. I told her it was nothing, but she insisted I come with her. I’m guessing her to be in her late 40’s – early 50’s so I only limped slightly.
She had me sit on her sofa with my injured foot propped atop the sofa’s arm; my foot completely exposed to her. She gently and meticulously cleaned the small cut wrapping the gauze band-aid securing the wrap with white tape. She’d obviously had some kind of training given her efficient ministrations. Although finished she continued to massage my foot causing me great pleasure! Ever had someone massage your feet? God it’s glorious! After a few minutes she stopped and looked directly at me and asked, “Zuki is this all the attention you’ll need tonight?”
Believe it or not I seriously replied, “Why yes, thanks so much for the first aid.” With that I got up and told her I’d see her around and let myself out….. About 2:00 AM I sat straight up in bed and screamed NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!