People always ask me "Joe, what is it like to be you?". Currently, I live my life as if I am getting checked for a hernia approximately every four minutes: cough, cough. Albeit I am not dropping my cargo shorts so a stranger can feel me up. I guess the good news is I have moved past the coughing jags that last until I am winded and near gagging. The elephant sitting on my chest has been replaced by a large sow, perhaps a buffalo. I am sure there is not a black bear on my chest, and certainly not a giraffe. My chest tightness rises above the feeling I would get if a hedgehog were perched atop my lungs. I hope that adequately describes the situation?
My head congestion has reverted back to the normal "I hate fall" allergy level snot production.
OK, I admit you did not ask for that update. I suppose, if I have to be honest (and mind you, I don't), no one has ever asked me what it is like to be me. I have been asked "What were you thinking?", or "What is wrong with you"; both queries are often muttered by my wife, usually accompanied by "that look" and a subtle shake of he head. I have no doubt long-time readers of this collection of writings have occasionally wondered what the heck is going on in my brain.
In self-defense, in the almost 74 years I have been writing this blog a few crazy thoughts are bound to find their way into electronic print. Don't even try to tell me you don't have a occasional "moments".
I digress. From what, I am not sure. I have no intention of re-reading this claptrap to figure it out. That is your job as consumer. I throw the stuff onto the wall. You determine what sticks.
You think this entry is weird? You should see/hear/read the other thousand bits of stuff swirling around in my brain. I am only typing out the most coherent ideas. And I might note that all of the cranial chaos is playing out with Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain" playing as a soundtrack in the background.
Welcome to my Saturday morning.