Christmas-y Bow Tie o’ Yesterday accompanied me to the new hospital in Layton. I cannot remember the new hospital’s name. I was in too much distress to give a damn. I simply followed the directions the Google Maps GPS voice gave me.
What was my ouch problem? That stoopid right shoulder o’ mine. Only ten days ago I was in Bountiful at my shoulder specialist, where I received a cortisone shot. Darn rotator cuff. You can’t make it better by putting a snazzy cufflink on that kind of cuff. The cortisone shot worked, and helped the pain significantly. For three whole days. It was supposed to lessen the pain for at least three months. Rotator cuff fail. Once again, I need assistance to get dressed.
So off I went to see my specialist again, this time in his Layton office at the new hospital which name I can’t recall because I didn’t pay attention to the name because I was in pain and hadn’t had much sleep because my shoulder was acting up because my rotator cuff is hashed probably from back in the day when I was a pro wrestler as a second job because teaching didn’t pay enough because we say we value teachers in the public schools but we really don’t want our taxes to go up so we can pay them what they deserve and then we get mad at the teachers whose salaries suck whenever our kids disrespect them or get crappy grades cuz they’re our precious little babies so it must be the a-hole teachers’ fault but maybe my rotator cuff was hashed up back when I was a Navy Seal and saved the world from matters of such national security that to tell you about my missions would require me to then kill you because you knew the secrets or maybe my right shoulder is toast because I type TIE O’ THE DAY twice a day and although I’m left-handed I do almost everything else with my right hand and because I don’t know how to type I hunt-and-peck type and mostly with my right hand so maybe I’m going to have to learn to become a true left-hander and use my left hand for everything I do although I have never been able to use lefty scissors even though I tried all through my illustrious elementary school career and left-handed kid scissors remind me of Elementary School art projects which harks me back to eating elementary school paste with my friends in Mrs. Reid’s 2nd Grade classroom during recess until Mrs. Judd caught us…..and so on.
And OMGolly, that stream-of-consciousness, all-the-words-run-together-so-it’s-hard-to-read paragraph above seems to be evidence my sometimes-fibbing, storytelling mind is getting back in kilter. Or it’s getting off-kilter in the right way for me to be able to write posts again. I’m back, it appears. Sorta. Knock on wood. Or pergo. Or laminate. Whatever you’ve got.
HOLIDAY TIE TALLY: 52 Bow ties. 103 Neckties.
A very bipolar Faulkner-esque long, perhaps run-on sentence, stream of consciousness rant that I’d really prefer to rival rather than accept that you are a much better writer than I and I already know it’s true because you have been published in reputable journals and not in the vanity press but I digress and what I want to say is that I’ve never been good at using my left hand either and that is probably due to the fact that I am not left handed nor have I ever broken my right arm or hand so I’ve not had to learn to do anything with my lefty however I have read Faulkner and he does have long sentences that are grammatically correct in every way and he even uses commas and semicolons and the other thing I don’t have going for me in this competition for the better sentence is that I’m not bipolar although my head sometimes bobbles particularly when I’ve managed to slip on ice or tried to dance or participate in other activities that require coordination among limbs but not tree limbs—I was a good tree climber—and now I tend to stay on terra firma for safety, my own and others’, because one time I stepped off the curb while holding Rowan—he was about four—and fell quickly and completely to the pavement without harming a hair on his head and then there was the time I was weed whacking and had just replaced the cord in the weed whacker and accidentally hit the power before trimming the line and managed to slice my leg in several places right in front of the child and when he looked panicked I simply said, “Let this be a lesson for you—never use the weed whacker while wearing shorts.”