This dispatch is coming to you from the home of my mother, by which news I mean to impart that I have arrived safe and sound, and have set about the task of making sure she doesn�t, like, eat tin foil or whatever in her doped up state. She�s actually much more lucid than I�d expected, which is actually a bit of a mixed blessing. I mean, it�s certainly an encouraging sign in terms of her ultimate recovery, but it also means she can argue with me over what we watch on the telly. If she�s drooling on herself and dozing off in the middle of dialing for a pizza delivery, I get to accuse her of mental incompetence and tell her to go to bed. This way I actually have to listen. Well, �listen�.
But let me begin at the beginning, which beginning began at about 5:45am when I dragged my ass out of bed and Dr. Goodhead drove me to the airport. The travel itself was really pretty uneventful, truth be told. I wish I could thrill you guys with horrific tails of the slings and arrows of shoutrageous fortune I suffered in my endeavors to get here, but alas, it was all relatively tame. I got to sit all alone in my row on not just one but both flights out here (which never happens), they were on time, my bag arrived, and there was precious little hassle involved. Which scares the shit out of me, because if I know anything about the balance of the Universe, that means it�s really fixing to wallop me but good just around the corner.
Admittedly, the second plane was a little...cozy, shall we say. I mean, the bathroom was about the size of a fuse box, and when I went in to do my business I literally couldn�t stand up straight. I kind of had to crook my head to the side, pressing my ear against the slope of the ceiling. I don�t know about the rest of you men out there, but I find depth perception to be a pretty crucial factor in the whole �aiming� thing. But if that�s my only complaint, I�m doing pretty good.
In any event, my mom�s neighbor showed up at the airport to pick me up, carrying a big placard with my name written on it. I felt kind of cool, but also pretty self-conscious, because suddenly everyone was staring at me, all, �Ooh, who do you think he is?� Okay, I�m lying�I totally loved that. My mom�s neighbor is a really nice guy (I mean, clearly), but he was also really, really forthcoming with personal details in a way that never fails to make me uncomfortable. Like, how do you respond to stuff like that? Usually I just nod my head real big and make sympathetic noises and then surreptitiously reach for the door handle, trying to figure out if we�re moving too fast for me to tuck and roll.
Anyway, we salvaged my mom from the hospital. It was great to see her managing so well, especially since she just had surgery less than a week ago, and back in top complaintive form. (�I can�t believe how long it took them to bring me that wheelchair! I�m never going to stay here again.�) But we got her back to her place, and I�ve set about the somewhat arduous task of getting her to sit down for a minute and stop trying to do everything for herself. I mean, how hard should it be to convince someone to just let you do all the work? That would be like someone forcing me to eat chocolate cake for dinner.
The other thing I�m trying to deal with is her attention-starved cat, who won�t leave me alone for two seconds before pawing at me like an overeager prom date. But I don�t mind that so much, since this is the same cat who used to avoid me all the time, and I like to think I�ve finally gotten her to warm up to me. Oh, and I�m also trying to deal with the fact that my sister left an inflatable mattress at my mother�s place for me to use, but not the pump with which to do the actual inflating. My sister told me to just use a hair dryer (?), which I tried, only to reaffirm the scientific tenet that when you press hot surfaces against rubber and plastic, you get melty rubber and plastic. And a bad smell. So I�ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.
At any rate, the week has only just begun. I�ve got plenty of time to powder that wig and sharpen up that butcher knife.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: Wet �n� Wild nail vernis I�m Watching: Desperate Housewives. I don�t understand why Bree, of all people, has any issues with getting involved in S&M. I�m Reading: I sailed through a shitload more of The Lost Continent today, and it�s really fucking hilarious.