Simple thoughts

McDonald's will not serve you water.  They have water, they just will not let you have any.

The robins thought it was safe enough to come back north.  I am guessing that the past 2 1/2 days of snow and freezing temperatures were not on this year's schedule.  I know that it was not on the rhubarb's schedule.

Yesterday was A's birthday.  His friend, M, from school, was cute, funny and a handful.  His parents are sure to age prematurely.  I hope they have factored that into their life plan.  I really do.  My C was a handful and I never thought to plan ahead.

I am weary of sitting here at McDonald's, and my soon to be accomplished return to the car repair place seem to be almost more than I can handle.  Last night, when my sore throat, sore glands, sore sinuses and sore head were making sleep impossible, I begged to not be sick again.  Please, I implore you, body, do not be sick.  I do not have time to be sick.  More importantly, I do not have the heart to keep getting sick.  I accept a crappy immune system and seriously impaired mucus membranes.  I do.

Last night, the prospect of being ill again, so soon, only since the end of January, for cryingoutloud, was discouraging enough to have me thinking about an overdose of something.  That I do not have anything capable of producing an overdose seemed to not be an obstacle last night.  Today, the daylight, gloomy as it is, allows me to see the flaws in that plan.

I mean, you can no longer overdose on acetaminophen any more.  At best, you will just lose a leg and the final shreds of respect that your family holds for you.  If you have any doubts, just ask S.

When you are visiting your daughter and her family for three months, just following Christmas, it is not in your best interest to precede your departure to her house with a week's worth of fighting. 

If you do, on the two days when you have your catarracts removed, your daughter will refuse to hire someone to come in and be with you whilst everyone else in the household is at work or school, and she will leave you to spend the remainder of each surgery day in a restaurant.

You will have money for lunch and coffee and, maybe, cake, but you will not be able to see well enough to find your way to the restroom.  You and your ancient bladder will have to rely on the kindness of strangers to help you pee.  This one is not about me.

It is important, if not actually essential, to avoid laughing out loud when two men in very expensive suits walk into the McDonald's (where you are waiting whilst your car is being repaired next door) and one of them asks the counter clerk, "So, what's good today?" and then stands there and stares at her until she begins to recite the menu, which is posted on the wall behind her.

Especially when that man orders for the other man, and they end up with fries, one Big Mac (which they split), two soft drinks and a dipped cone.  Lordy.

Especially when he turns and you see that it is your old boss.  I mean, you heard his voice every day, for years.  Failing to recognize him sooner must be your heart, trying to protect your psyche from those memories.

This simple girl is taking her prescription cough medicine, her antihistamines, her nose goo, her pain meds, her mentholated chest rub, her snugly blankie, her book, a couple of cats, her simple thoughts and going to bed.