A Hiatus Kind Of Numb

I'm barely stirring this morning, let alone up and at 'em.

It might be a chemical imbalance kind of day. Or maybe the synapses are misfiring. I've got nothing, no Zoloft, No Doz, Loadoff, Crank, Horny Goat Weed to deaden the pain or dull the senses. In fact I took my very last children's aspirin this morning, so now the little clacking plastic container has fallen silent. It's very zen to shake an empty pill container. But science tells the reason it's silent, no compressed molecules within to make contact with another body. It's like a pair of maracas if an enemy came in the middle of the night and drained out the beads. The beads inside are the musician's slaves. He shakes it and gets the applause but the beads are the ones sweating out a very jarring experience.

I do have a cup of coffee. I stood looking at my dwindling supplies. Milk that expires today. I thought maybe I'd have nothing. Just enjoy the experience. But I went for the coffee, then some milk, since we still have today, then a little orange juice, then three pieces of bacon, then some Grape Nuts, a tiny bowl. That was a turn around for someone who wasn't going to have anything. So at least I have the desire to make an upward swing, assuming this helps. The coffee will probably help more than anything, although, you know, coffee has this one curious side effect, which means going to the bathroom a lot more.

I should have kept Old Faithful around to receive the drainings of another Old Faithful. (It was installed at the south end of our property back in March.) There's really nothing like urinating in Old Faithful, as a couple of guys have discovered, according to the news. It doesn't really hurt the geyser, of course, and it brightens your own life. Maybe that's what I need. But you really do need to time it just right, because once that whoosh of scalding water comes against you you'll wish you'd just gone against a tree.

I like that one album by The Who that shows them taking a leak against an old concrete coal bunker or something. It'd be great to be together, let's say, the two guys in Wyoming, me, and The Who, all having a pee party at Old Faithful. But if we timed it wrong, it'd never happen again. Because The Who won't be fooled again, and once they saw the water ascending they'd definitely be going mobile, peeing as they ran over the hills, maybe singing, "I Can Pee For Miles."

That lifted my spirits a little, but now that paragraph's over and I'm feeling my old numb, sinking feeling starting in again. Maybe I need to do something. Some days the hiatus is a great thing. Today it's not so great.

But the hiatus lives on...