The sky is gray as periodic bouts of drizzle bring a bit of moisture to the parched grass. Temperatures are falling into decidedly fall-like weather. To heighten the impression, the neighbor’s tree I can see out the window is turning a mild russet. It is that time of year.
I had a heavy workload at the big box: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. For some reason customers were in a surly mood. One going so far as to drop copious F-bombs on me because we were out of something he wanted. Does he really think calling me a motherfucker is going to get me to bend the rules and sell him the display? Indeed not. Even if I could. I knew he was a jerk when he whistled at me from down the aisle. When I ignored him — I’m not a dog — he “ hey’d” me. Strike two.
The rules are simple. If you want patio furniture or a mower get it in April. Patio heaters and fire pits grab it in July. Christmas stuff? It is out now for a reason. And never, ever, whistle to get my attention.
My gut wrenching pain in my in innards is back; well it never really left, just intensified again back to the levels I had in June. Searching the internet (everything is true on the internet) it seems I have an ulcer, pancreatitis, or stomach cancer. The hypochondriac in me votes for stomach cancer. The realists opts for the far-more likely ulcer. I’m not sure what worries and concerns could be giving me an ulcer...
The Doctor seems to think I’m imagining things. He put me on a Prilosec regimen. I don’t know, I’ve dropped four pounds in the last couple of weeks. That could be from working a ton of physically demanding hours too. Damn internet medical degree is worthless.
If only I had stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night.
I had legitimate content in mind when I sat down to compose. You got me sidetracked by asking about my health. You should know not to ask an old guy about his health. Frankly, the whole resulting post is pretty much your fault. We will both have to live with it.