Me? I've been pretty sick. Yesterday was the first time in two weeks that I felt like a human being, and I have walked three miles each of the last two days, but my head is still full of gar-bage. The fact that I have made an actual appointment with an actual doctor means things are bad indeed, or at least dragging out far too long. I'm not sure when this aversion of mine to medical offices developed, but I'd better not turn into an old person with health problems -- one more visit than the two mammograms a year I've been having (because of all the ones I postponed) is one visit too many.
Family? Okay. Sons here and gone from spring break. Son's dental crisis resolved for the time being. Major Life Decisions happening all around me. I don't seem to be of much help. Grandmother turned 100 while my head was in a fog; slept all the way to her party in Cincinnati and all the way back.
Work? A quiet disaster. Try not grading papers for two weeks because every time you try to concentrate your brain swims away. The pile looks almost insurmountable. I may have made a major mistake in another work realm but I don't know because I can't remember. I seem to have taught a lot of stuff about the American Revolution and the Russian Revolution while my brain was otherwise not engaged.
My house? Oh my. It's a good thing spring break is almost upon us. The cat's problems have resulted in two areas rugs tossed out in as many days. I can't figure out how to use the new printer's copy function. I can't figure out how I scanned that picture of my grandmother. I'm hoping that I haven't misplaced the taxes, which are done but certainly not paid.
Mary Winkler? I am still obsessed with her case. I read the Jackson Sun and The Tennessean online every day now. And -- almost forgot! -- the highlight of being sick: I have discovered bimbo sensationalist prosecutor Nancy Grace on CNN. I can't decide which is better -- her appalling hair, her atrocious makeup, her dramatic poses, her slimy questions, or her calculated interruptions of guests who don't meet her ratings needs. I knew I was really, really, really sick when I watched Dr. Phil one afternoon, so I am grateful to Nancy Grace for having provided me with the diversion of a whole new level of trash televison. She is an embarrassment to the bar, but let me tell you: Steve Farese is The Man.
So that's my life. I'm going to try to get back to some blog reading and, eventually, writing -- in a while. But first I have to wean myself from Nancy Grace.
And does anyone know why all of a sudden I can't space between paragraphs?