Lately I have taken strangely to lists-- a development in entire contradiction to my personality, but somehow appreciable nonetheless.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
stream of boredom
The jazz coming out of my CD player cannot be labeled as anything but...happy. This is obviously a mistake of gargantuan proportions.
Who listens to jazz when they want to feel happy? But how was I supposed to know the temptingly-priced Miles Davis "Jazz Autobiography" would be such an upper? Being the proudest of cheapscapes, I couldn't resist the price tag. That's what I am: a $4.99 enthusiast. And so now, when all I really want to do is settle down into the melancholy and the cold comfort of my neglected and deservedly under-read blog, I have to put up with pick-me-up jazz tunes. Lovely.
The whole day has been lovely. The whole week, in fact. Monday I went into the hospital for surgery to remove a lump on my butt. In addition to the preceeding discomfort involved with asking time off for an obscure and unmentionable procedure, you can imagine the complications following the actual surgery. Although thankfully I will be able to use a chair at the dinner table on Thanksgiving, leaning from one cheek to the other gets annoying, as does popping Tylenol every four hours.
My entire room reeks from my last attempt at relieving the all-pervasive boredom that comes three days after surgery with nothing to do but lean: Mod-Podge. And though it kept me occupied for some time, I must confess myself generally disappointed with the product.
Exhausted with my peeling fingers and sketchy-looking projects, I turned on the jazz and the computer. So here we sit....
The week, though, has not be without its compensations, despite the lethergy now descending. And it is getting late. Monday, after the surgery and a long, anesthesia-induced nap, brought a box of sixteen chocolate-covered cherries from Grandma, as well as a soundtrack to entertain the invalid from my aunt and cousin. Tuesday brought Paul, all sweetness with two huge containers of Edy's ice cream, and roses. He is the best. How I got so lucky, I will never know. Well, that's not exactly true. As Dad says, they'd been praying for him for a long time. Paul was God's idea. Still, I can't believe how happy he makes me.
Who listens to jazz when they want to feel happy? But how was I supposed to know the temptingly-priced Miles Davis "Jazz Autobiography" would be such an upper? Being the proudest of cheapscapes, I couldn't resist the price tag. That's what I am: a $4.99 enthusiast. And so now, when all I really want to do is settle down into the melancholy and the cold comfort of my neglected and deservedly under-read blog, I have to put up with pick-me-up jazz tunes. Lovely.
The whole day has been lovely. The whole week, in fact. Monday I went into the hospital for surgery to remove a lump on my butt. In addition to the preceeding discomfort involved with asking time off for an obscure and unmentionable procedure, you can imagine the complications following the actual surgery. Although thankfully I will be able to use a chair at the dinner table on Thanksgiving, leaning from one cheek to the other gets annoying, as does popping Tylenol every four hours.
My entire room reeks from my last attempt at relieving the all-pervasive boredom that comes three days after surgery with nothing to do but lean: Mod-Podge. And though it kept me occupied for some time, I must confess myself generally disappointed with the product.
Exhausted with my peeling fingers and sketchy-looking projects, I turned on the jazz and the computer. So here we sit....
The week, though, has not be without its compensations, despite the lethergy now descending. And it is getting late. Monday, after the surgery and a long, anesthesia-induced nap, brought a box of sixteen chocolate-covered cherries from Grandma, as well as a soundtrack to entertain the invalid from my aunt and cousin. Tuesday brought Paul, all sweetness with two huge containers of Edy's ice cream, and roses. He is the best. How I got so lucky, I will never know. Well, that's not exactly true. As Dad says, they'd been praying for him for a long time. Paul was God's idea. Still, I can't believe how happy he makes me.
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