Manic

I felt better yesterday than I have felt for a long time now.  I don't know why.  Everything is still the same.  The day was beautiful, but it was one in a long string of gorgeous days.  My knee hurts worse than it has since I first began getting the injections and people noticed that I was limping.  My jaw still pops and cracks and my car's power steering is still out.  No, there was no real reason that I could tell.  

I got up early.  There was much to do around the house in preparation for the cleaning crew.  I had told myself after their last visit that I would begin putting everything I used back into its proper place immediately after using it.  But that didn't happen.  I just got worse, so it took hours to get the place ready.  I rose early but didn't get to the gym until well past mid-morning.  It seemed alright.  None of the boys were there.  I'd be in and out without gabbing.  I had many stops to make, much to do.  

Just as I was finishing up, though, one of the outer moons walked in, a fellow a bit younger than I, but not so much to the eye.  He is short and thick with a broad face, a beard, and very southern eyes.  Surely you know what I mean.  He is recently retired and the gym, it would seem, is his social outlet.  He's a talker.  A long, slow talker, a teller of stories that have no beginning or ending, just a rough stretch of broken highway.  But he is friendly, so. . . I told him the LED/lighting cover story.  Nothing abstract or conceptual, just a self-incriminating tale that was easy to understand.  When I got to the part about breaking the acrylic lighting cover and being unable to find the proper size, he said, "Go to Diffusion Plastics.  That's what they do.  They'll cut you a piece that is the right size."

These redneck boys are great, I have to say.  How in the hell would I have known that.  

"Alright.  Thanks, man.  Wow, yea. . . I'll go this afternoon."

Just then Tennessee walked in.  When he walked over, I quickly told him the tale of the lighting, but he jumped to the ending right away.  

"You broke the cover didn't you.  You dropped it."

Gravity being what it is, the Outer Moon came over to get in on the conversation.  Five minutes.  Ten minutes.  I walked to the dumbbell rack.  I needed to finish up.  I had to go.  Then T came over and began telling me about his morning, meeting with the 7 Billion Dollar fund manager who wants him in on a deal.  These fuckers.  I can't afford power steering but they all have beach houses, mountain homes, first class trips around the world.  

But as I say, I have the gift of gab.  And gab we did.  Half an hour.  

"O.K. boys.  I gotta run.  What was the name of that place again?"

"Do yourself a favor.  Get a pencil and a piece of paper at the desk on your way out and write it down."

I didn't, but when I got to the car, I Googled it.  It didn't come up in any of my searches.  Shit.  I got out of the car and limped back to the gym with my phone.  The boys were still standing together, gabbing.  A female trainer had joined them.  They saw me coming and started laughing.  Apparently I was the butt of whatever joke they had been telling.  

"That place doesn't come up on a Google search," I said.  

"O.K.  Come out to my car.  I have their number in my phone."

And so we both limped out to the edge of the parking lot to his 1976 GMC Jimmy.  He opened the door to get his phone and I looked inside.  It was a mess of wrappers, paper, cups, tools. . . a real redneck dream.  

"What year is this?" I asked.  "Did you buy it new?"

"No.  I got it out in Texas a couple years ago."  

That launched him into another never-ending story that stopped when he found the phone number.  Yea, they were still in business.  O.K.  Don't go today, though.  There is a sickness running through the place.  Everybody is going home.  

"I'll go tomorrow," I said.  

As we stood there in the shade of an overgrown tree beside the Jimmy, another gymroid, a big, tatted boxer, crossed the lot laughing.  

"This reminds me of high school.  You guys doing a drug deal or just drinking a Mickey's Wide Mouth?"

If you don't know what a Mickey's wide mouth is, you'll have to look it up.  

When I got back to my car, I had a text from the cleaning crew.  They would be at the house in ten minutes.  Shit.  I called my mother to tell her about the light cover, but she couldn't hear me on the phone, so I said I'd see her later.  I had errands to run.  

As I said, the day was beautiful, and apparently everyone was at the pool 'cause there wasn't any traffic.  I decided to go to Whole Foods to get fixings for my evening meal.  I would roast vegetables and tofu.  But I was hungry after the gym, so I decided to get food from the hot bar and eat it there.  It surprises me how many people eat lunch at Whole Foods.  The counters and tables inside and out were packed.  

As I ate, I saw one an old acquaintance, a well-known entity in town.  Plaid shorts, loafers without socks, a double XL untucked Oxford.  He looked like the 1990's.  Only older.  Maybe you can stay with the fashion, Bubba, but you can't stop time.  

My lunch sucked.  

I walked to the car with my groceries, though, feeling light and springy.  Don't know why.  I put the groceries in the back and realized I had an Amazon purchase that I meant to return.  I cursed myself for not taking it in with me, but then changed my mind.  I was lucky to have remembered it at all.  

Inside, there was nobody in line.  I handed over my package and let them scan the code on my phone.  Easy.  Quick.  Done.  

Money back into my account.

Walking back through the parking lot, I saw this.  

Was that graffiti or was that custom?  I was hoping it said "Fuck You," but after a minute, I could see what it said.  Still. . . . 

Next stop, the bank.  No cars in the drive-thru.  The teller was quick.  In and out.  It is fun making a deposit.  My account is going dry.  Just that morning, I had signed an agreement with the fixit company to do more repairs on the apartment and my house.  Cha-ching!  It is costing a pretty penny.  Tens of thousand of them.  The deposit wouldn't cover it, but that is another story.  

As I pulled out of the drive-thru, I watched a city bus pull into its stop where an illegally parked car was blocking the lane .  The driver miscalculated just a bit--and whoa!--he ripped the front end of the car away from the body.  Holy shit. . . did he just do that?  The driver got out and looked. Then all the passengers got out.  The bus sat blocking the road.  Traffic in both directions was at a standstill.  There was nothing for me to do until the bus moved.  Would it?  

Eventually.  

Grocery shopping, lunch, a return, and the bank.  It had taken awhile.  Surely the cleaning crew was done.  There is always four or five of them, so it was not a daylong project.  

A soak, a shower. . . a nap.  I got up and drove to my mother's.  

She was not feeling well.  The across the street neighbor had called to tell me she was inviting my mother and I to Easter dinner on Sunday.  Shit, piss, fuck, goddamn.  She said she called my mother, but she was not doing well.  Indeed she wasn't.  Headache, she said.  Felt bad all over.  My feeling is that she sits too much. 

 "You need to do things," I said.  "You can't just sit all day.  Draw.  Paint like you used to.  Something.  Little things."

"I did two loads of laundry today.  It wiped me out." 

I think she doesn't breathe enough.  She needs to do breathing exercises.  I don't know.  

"Remember that lady from the gym we saw in the parking garage after therapy the other day?  She asked me what I was doing there and I said I had taken you to therapy. That's your mother she said?!?  She doesn't look ninety-three.  I thought it might have been your girlfriend.  Ho!  I guess that is a nice compliment for you, but man. . . I wasn't too happy about that.  I must be looking pretty shitty."

"I don't look my age," my mother said.  

"Apparently I do."

I had opted for one of the NA beers I had left there.  They are good if you don't try to pretend too much that they are beer.  45 calories, less than half of a light beer, a third of the calories in a soda pop.  They are a good drink, I think, as long as you don't pretend.

When I got home, I was clear headed and full of vigor for some reason, and I decided to forego a cocktail and made an A.A. alternative instead.  I sat out on the porch in the perfect air.  Maybe I wouldn't drink tonight.  

I went in and chopped the vegetables--cabbage, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, onions, and cauliflower.  Salt, cayenne pepper, and olive oil.  I put it in the enameled cast iron Dutch oven and set the stove to broil.  Another A.A. cocktail.  I remembered to order a book I had promised my mother's across the street neighbor on Amazon.  Next day delivery--it would be here for Easter dinner.  What the hell.  I poured a vodka and soda with lime and waited for the vegetables.  Just  at the end, having changed my mind about the tofu, I threw in some roasted chicken from the night before, then, in a few minutes, I plated it all and turned on the television.  

Have you heard the latest Trump news?

After dinner. . . I don't know. . . there was still some of the 14 year old scotch Q had bought.  Just a glass.  I picked up "The Passenger" and read. . . with another whiskey.  Now, finally, the sun was setting.  I had an urge to fire off my BB pistol.  Why?  Beats me.  Maybe I knew.  I got up and pulled it down from the shelf and went outside.  Nobody was around and the yard trash can was sitting on the curb.  Pow.  Pow.  Pow.  That was a good sixty or seventy feet and I was hitting bullseye.  

The whiskey didn't seem to be affecting me.  Maybe another, I thought, but no. . . I changed my mind.  Time to make some Milk Oolong tea.  It is a wonderful tea and fairly hard to get.  I set the pot to boil and scooped up the round balls of tea in the stainless steel tea ball that T and his wife had given me.  That's tea, ball, tea, ball, T.  Keep up.  

Three minutes of brewing.  I sat back down with Cormac McCarthy.  

His grandmother put the flat of her palm on the table as if she were about to get up but she didn't.  She looked more than tired.

Are you all right?

I'm all right, Bobby.  Don't pay no attention to me.  I get lonely sometimes is all.  She turned and looked at him.  Do you ever?

He wanted to tell her that he knew no other state of being.  Sometimes, he said.  

I made another half cup of tea with the of Milk Oolong remains and read until it was gone.  Then I had an idea.  I had bought a mouthguard over a year ago, one that was meant to prevent snoring.  

"You will die," she said, "if you don't do something about your apnea.  Stroke.  Kidney failure.  Something."

That was my doctor after I quit using the aqualung to sleep.  But the mouthguard required boiling, imprinting your bite, and I had just never done it.  I picked up the package and opened it.  I set the water to boiling and went through the steps.  

I tried it when I went to bed.  Holy shit, it was weird.  When I woke up a little while later, it wasn't in my mouth.  I turned on the light and found it lying in the bed.  I put it back in, turned off the light, and tried to sleep.  I don't think I did.  After a couple hours, I took it out and lay back down.  I don't know if it works or not.  I will try it again tonight.  It will take some getting used to.  

I have a busy day, and then I take my mother to Costco, then to therapy.  Then we will go to the grocers and I will make us dinner.  I'm a kind and loving person, I think, and a pretty good cook.  Still. . . 

Sometimes, he said.