#823: 517 Words

A few days ago, I was struggling with accepting my need to keep on top of my brain and all its foibles. Today, I went to the doctor and had the dosage for my brain meds upped a touch. Now what seemed like a whole rigmarole a few days ago was easy peasy. I feel like doing some arms-akimbo, chicken-flappy dance to illustrate how ridiculous I am. Cluck cluck cluck.

I should warn you. This post has very low standards. All it wants is 500 words. It doesn’t care if it wraps up in one nice, big bow at the end.

Also, I have very low standards today. I am kind of stuffed up with a sinus thing, so I can't tell for sure, but I think that some kind of vegetable matter is farting around under my desk, and I have yet to go look for it. I imagine it as a head of cauliflower that has gone all soft, and it is cowering behind the cord pole, whimpering softly as it faces the reality of its abject fear of death. No, wait. That’s me if I imagine myself as a head of cauliflower under my desk.

Hang on. I’m going after that farty vegetable.

Guess what? It was a tomato lurking behind my recycling box.

Oh, sure, you’re getting all grumbly about having shown up here at all today, but look, we’re already at over 230 words, which is almost half-way, and by the end of this sentence, we’ll be well over 250, so shut it.

I was really going to use this space to wax all poetically serious about how it feels to assume the worst and yet come out fighting, and it was going to be a championesque, boxing-gloves-in-the-air kind of thing with the soft rush of a crowd’s cheers trailing off, but that just made me want to jamb a pair of scissors into my neck.

Aaaaand, from way out in left field, we have: what is it, precisely, to "gird up one’s loins"? I know now that its most common usage has to do with preparing oneself for action, but that is not too precise. I would like an example of this girding.

This was of great concern to me when I was a child, because we went to Sunday School and church and religio-whatnot every week, and I had heard of people in the Bible doing just such a thing, and I wanted to be sure that I would be able to do all the girding I needed to if my little Christian self was ever called upon to do it. I asked around a couple of times, but no adults would give me a straight answer, so I was left with this strange idea that it had something to do with a combination of those adult diapers Jesus wore, squeezing your butt cheeks together, and withstanding some kind of force. To me, it sounded an awful lot like it meant trying to not poop for God.

And that, my friends, brings us to a close at 517 words. Gute nacht, meine lieben.

50x365 #21: Paternal Grandfather

50x365 #20: Nola S.