day to day avoidance

I am avoiding my shoulder terrorism. I need to go to the bank. I need drain cleaner for the kitchen sink, but the way I see it, I don't have to do dishes until it is fixed and we can eat at Clay's Smokehouse on Division. I have to get concrete blocks from Home Despot so we can build the deck this weekend. And lumber. I didn't know until I was married that it mattered that they were straight. I mean, I knew that, but I didn't know they sold bent boards, warped. Like me. And that you have to pick through them. You don't just go get some. I need some boards please. I can't lift anything anyway. One armed bandit. That's me.

Avoidance.

Sid is staring at me, knowing we will go somewhere today. He heard me say the word "go" on the phone this morning, and he does not forget. He will stare at me, lay at my feet, follow me room to room until we GO. He will not become manic until I put on my shoes. That is the giveaway. He has become my daily travel companion, sitting in the passenger seat like anybody, watching passing motorists, keeping his balance. He watches TV. He likes Drew Barrymore, probably because she is blonde and he thinks she is me. HE WATCHES TV. When TV laughs, he looks at us to see if we get it. I have ruined my dog. He is not a pitbull at all, but mommies still run strollers to the other side of the street when we go by, and pro-pitbull people ask if they can pet my dog, like they are doing something dangerous and heroic. They are not.

So, Judas has a new book out. Cool. I want to read it.

(Jan, if you are reading this blog, send me your email. Get mine from Lorretta. I miss you.)