It’s seven fifteen here.
A.M.
And so far,
I have cleaned and put back together a coffee machine where someone put coffee in the
basket holder, not in the basket.
(In our house, the first one up does the beverage service.)
Did I mention it is seven fifteen here.
And that I only drink tea.
Surely those little coffee grains you can use for keeping drains clean
must do the same for human insides, right?
It’s seven fifteen.
Somehow, the scoop for the coffee,
the silver-plated one we were given as a present one Christmas,
since when I make coffee,
the spoon stands up on its own,
and all the little old ladies at the grande dame
(my mother-in-law’s)
birthday party decide to either dance
or help clean the kitchen.
After eating fifteen pieces of cake.
Most were over eighty at the time.
Yup, we had to actually call the doctor.
For the grande dame.
the next morning
when her blood sugar played up.
Did I mention I only drink tea?
The silver-plated spoon was behind the refrigerator.
Someone must have kicked it there.
Or dropped it and it rolled.
Or placed it there for safe keeping from burglars.
I’m not really sure,
but at least we have it back.
And the coffee is now made.
(I actually used that little girl scout trick,
learned many years ago,
where you put your thumb and fingers together
to make a cup.
The bottom of the “cup” is about a tablespoon.
I used two.
The coffee appears to be just a little black.)
Did I mention it’s seven fifteen.
A.M.
And I only drink tea?
Which I was just about to sit down to,
while writing,
when the phone rang.
Did I mention….
A girlfriend of mine.
With a labrador.
Who wanted to know,
I kid you not,
if I knew
what would happen to her,
since someone had mixed up those funny plastic holders
the kind you put your pills for they day in,
one for you,
one for the labrador,
if you took your thyroid tablet
from the de-worming tray.
In a case like this,
trying desperately not to laugh,
did I mention I hadn’t had my tea yet?
I told her the only thing I could think to say
ie
embarrassing as it is,
call the hospital.
Or the vet.
He prescribed it,
he should know the consequences.
Even on humans.
And was it really the de-worming,
or was it one of the myriad of other tablets Gonzo had to take?
This is not really a healthy dog.
Her answer was clear.
Not a clue.
My answer:
Count the tablets,
call the vet.
I hung up.
THEN I laughed.
And thought about how all those newest of new phones
are constantly blowing up when you charge them.
And wondered how I could get one.
And as for the bells?
You know those fight matches?
Where they ring a bell to send everybody back to their respective corners.
So the boxer can have a minute for himself?
Did I mention it is seven fifteen?
And I haven’t had my tea yet?
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Quahog on a Tightrope 