Sorry, sometimes I just can’t resist a pun.
My last post probably sounded like I was teetering on the edge of despair. But I can assure you that my feeling of well-being is not connected to my success or failure as a barista. There are medications for that. I’m actually feeling pretty well for a guy in the middle of dental work. Speaking of medications, my dentist is either a Bhuddist or is on tranques. No one could be that consistently calm and soothing. I’m sure it’s his work schtick, it is the perfect demeanor for a dentist. I wonder if they have classes for that in dental school. I can see them sitting around in a room concentrating on lowering their blood pressure 20 points, just by meditation. My blood pressure is like a teenager’s, in spite of a family history to the contrary. I hope the same holds true for melanoma, which my brother and sister both have had. I mentioned this fact to a doctor friend and she was pretty adamant that I needed to get checked and maybe even find out if I have the genetic marker.
OK enough about that stuff. Is that what you call “over-sharing?” I’ve been trying to justify my existence in this post-Dex life. It wouldn’t take long for Beck to serve the divorce papers if I were sitting around all day eating Cheetos and watching daytime TV. I’ve been trying to raise the level our meal quality by cooking more often. Last night it was braised pork loin chops with mushrooms and peppers, Neapolitan style. Today I roasted a turkey breast and a couple of thighs for sandwiches, and I’ve been doing some of the grocery shopping while my Beck is at work. However, I have not yet come through on my promise to wear a house dress and an apron and meet her at the door with a Martini.
Last week I did something completely out of character. I noticed that the toilet was running so I took a look inside to see if it was something even I, the world’s unhandyest man, could fix. The problem turned out to be that the chain connecting the flapper valve thingy had come off of the lever thingy that’s attached to the handle. And the lever was so corroded that there was no way to attach the paper clip that I’d used to jerry-rig it the last time. My normal reaction to this situation would normally be to think, “Oh, that’s going to need to be replaced.” And then close it back up and open the cabinet and reach in and pull the flapper valve thingy up every time the toilet needed flushing for a few weeks until I called Dean the handy guy in the neighborhood over to fix it. Instead I jumped in the car, drove to Home Depot, bought the part, brought it home and replaced it. I know, that doesn’t exactly qualify me for a show on HGTV, but it wasn’t so much the level of difficulty that was so impressive, it was the lack of procrastination. I just might be able to justify my existence after all.