Friday, February 28, 2003

Will the madness never end? Yes it will, but not till sunday when ...The last installment of The Great Grand Ennui/Fat Free Milk Archive Exchange finally, FINALLY, hits the streets.

"I am at the stage of my cold where every time I fall asleep I wake up, and it's a bitch. It's a bitch is a very sexist term isn't it. I imagine you could substitute, it's a bastard, if your genderosity is easily offended. Genderosity, what a hoot. Either way, it wrecks havoc on my already fragile sleep pattern. Stuffy nose, sniffles, sore throat, sneezing, coughing, these have become the norm for my night. If that isn't bad enough, I like to sleep in boxer shorts, but because of a slight chill that goes hand in glove with my cold, I have taken to wearing an old pair of pajama bottoms that I found stuffed in the back of one of my drawers. That is all well and good, but as I mentioned they are an old pair of pajama bottoms, old in the sense that the elastic in the waistband is a thing of the past, and whenever I get up to go to the bathroom, which is a very frequent occurence due to the cold, the pajama bottoms usually end up around my ankles by the time I make it to the bathroom door, and this is not a good thing, because .... are you still with me? When I was a small child they had the last of the big polio scares and one morning I woke up to, you guessed it, go to the bathroom, and I couldn't walk. I was in extreme agony, dragging myself, bawling, and screaming across the floor. You have to realize that this was about five in the morning. so of course my parents were both sound asleep, sound asleep that is until they heard my anguished cries. I was able to babble out that I couldn't walk, and my mother totally freaked. She had POLIO in her eyes. My dad, being the more practical of the two, decided to give me a cursory physical. He pulled down my pajama bottoms and found that my underpants had slipped down around my knees, and yes in our family my father was at least as important as Dr. Jonas Salk in finding a cure for polio, he deftly pulled my underpants back up, and PRAISE THE LORD, I could walk again.
As a brief footnote to this story, I had the same problem a few weeks later, but neither of my parents bothered getting up to help their youngest child as he literally dragged his crippled body across the floor towards the bathroom. The heartless beasts, where was child welfare when I needed them?
This story goes nowhere, and proves nothing except that it is four o'clock in the morning, and my cold is at the stage where every time I fall asleep, I wake up."

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