My cold is evolving, changing every day, slowly (I tell myself) getting better. I felt energetic enough to wash the motorcycle this morning, but still not fit to be out in public. I won’t be at my book club meeting this afternoon, nor will I be able to take Donna’s girlfriend out on a hot date tonight. Sitting around the house is hard enough, but nights are the worst. I can stay sort of busy during the day, but when it’s time to go to bed there’s nothing to distract me from the constant need to cough and blow my nose.
Who knows where these things come from? Our daughter-in-law Beth was picking up the same cold when I was in Las Vegas. Maybe I caught mine on the road somewhere and then gave it to her. Maybe we got our colds from different sources.
Donna left yesterday for San Jose. We’re taking separate vacations this spring; I was in San Jose myself a few days ago. Why couldn’t we go together? Because I wanted to go by motorcycle and Donna didn’t. Even if Donna had wanted to ride with me, there’s no way we could have packed enough for two. We’ve done this before: I’ll go on a long ride, and then Donna will take a trip of her own a week or two later. She’s going to spend a week with our goddaughter Natasha, and while she’s there visit some fabric stores and, she says, the Tesla dealer (as if … I don’t know where she gets the idea we can even remotely afford one of those).
We do need another car, though. Polly’s riding around town on her Ducati with no helmet, despite innumerable promises, and I’m probably going to have to take the bike back (it’s still in my name). If I do that, she’ll need a car, and the only car she can afford is Donna’s old Lincoln, and then only if we outright give it to her. Or, actually, she could take her bike, which has been hanging in my garage for years now, and pedal her promise-breaking ass to and from work. Hmm … that is an option, come to think of it!
The poor dogs moped all the time I was gone, and now they’re moping for their mom. I’ll bring them both to the airport next Saturday night to pick up Donna … they know an airport trip means a loved one is coming home, and they start wiggling and writhing halfway there. Sometimes I wish we had tails, if only so we too could wiggle and writhe during moments of anticipatory bliss. Right now the girls are sitting by my office chair, waiting for me to share my cheddar goldfish crackers.
Amid the trumped-up “scandals” congressional Republicans and the media flogged all week, the one bright point, at least to me, was when Representative Louie Gohmert (R-Texas) said this to Attorney General Eric Holder: “I cannot have a witness challenge my character! The attorney general will not cast aspersions on my asparagus!” I won’t embed the video because I don’t want that man’s face on my blog, but here’s the link. Obviously, Gohmert doesn’t know that most of our asparagus is grown in Mexico, otherwise he wouldn’t be so defensive of it … after all, some of it could be terror asparagus.
But I digress. Donna just called; she sounds like she’s having fun. It’ll be time to feed the critters soon, then myself, then search Netflix for something to stream tonight. I hope tomorrow morning’s pile of used tissues is smaller than last night’s.