327 Market

I felt it creeping up my back as early as Monday. Since other things were happening with the ol bod, I figured it was something else.

But its grip on my throat is now totally undeniable. I sound like I am from a foreign country and the English had to do a lot of twisting and turning to find its way out of the labyrinthine maze of my head.

I like to think of the plus sides. Hanging out here at 327, all by myself, with the thermo cranked up to the unfrugal level of 60! Listening to loud music. Sitting in my unmade bed reading the Cohen novel (it finally got to the sexy part). Doing nothing. Washing dishes that aren't my own. Thinking about the clever things I'll say on eharmony. Staring at the wall. Pretending to not be here. My car is parked elsewhere, so its not obvious. I can really pretend to be an empty house. I can turn off the ringer of my phone and leave all the lights off. What fun it will be.

The biggest pain was making all the calls to the various institutions and people who call me "employee." The pain of knowing that I used my one sick day already (last fall when I thought my car was dying). The sad sad message I left on the Poulet's answering machine. (I think I am going to have to cancel, no make that very definite, I am canceling the weekend!). I was looking forward to leaving the little Petri dish we affectionately know as the "Bay Area." I haven't left this place in months. (Okay, okay, I was in the San Joaquin Valley not six days ago, but people commute from there for crying out loud!).

But four unbroken days in the bosom of Flip Flop shouldn't be sneezed at. (ha ha, I'll be doing a lot of sneezing... )