Portable Petri Dish
Full moon tonight. I just looked out and saw it, and now I'm reflecting again on how much nicer a view I have from my desk here in the new house than I did in the old one. There, all I had was a narrow slit high up on the wall so that all I could see was the neighbor's peeling roof tiles and TV antenna. Here, I have a sliding glass door right in front of me looking out on the green of the backyard. It sure beats roofing tile.
Full moons generally mean weirdness. It's common knowledge -- and statistically proven, I do believe -- that arrests and emergency room admissions go up during the full moon. People just seem to lose their minds when there's a fat white orb in the sky. Why, there goes a siren now. Factoid: Do you know what they call motorcycles in the ER? Donor cycles.
Jeez, this house. I just took another animal-inspired break from writing. This time it was to yell at Suki, who was snacking out of the cat's litterbox downstairs. I thought for sure it was Billy, who loves nothing better than a fresh cat turd, but apparently he's been teaching Suki about the pleasures of fine dining. A few cat turd canapes dusted with scent-absorbent gravel, washed down with a urine-tinged toilet bowl aperitif... Ah, mon cherie, zere eez nothing finer! ...And just now I had to chase Gable out of the office because he was manically attacking a yellow notebook pad. I swear, these animals are driving me nuts. I love them all, but sometimes I sure wouldn't mind locking them in a closet for a day or so -- together, of course, for a Darwinesque free-for-all -- just to get them out of my hair.
Today was a slow day for me; I basically spent it in a reclining position, either in bed or on the couch. Zoe's been nursing a runny nose for a week or so that bloomed into a cold/ear infection a few days ago. Being a sharing sort, she's sharing it with me now. I'm being spared the green snotties so far, but my chest feels like it's packed with sawdust (Nancy's "Excelsior!" perhaps?) and I'm hacking and wheezing my way through my Marlboro Lights. Yes, of course I should quit smoking. Next suggestion? In any event, I'm conserving my energy so my legions of corpuscles can be fresh to fight the good fight. If history is any indicator, though, all I've really done is prepped myself for another day or three of couch patrol.
That's one of the things they don't tell you about having kids: You're going to spend the next few years with a portable Petri dish bringing all sorts of viral goodies home from school. Ah, parenthood, the great immune system stimulator!
