08/03/98

Some days it doesn't pay to get up. Everything I've done today has gone awry. Like, for instance, my shower. You wouldn't think there's much work involved in showering, right? Turn on water, adjust temperature, climb in, wet entire body, soap up, lean sleepily against side while soothing hot water beats down on back, doze until realizing entire body now lobster pink, climb out, begin toweling off, realize have not actually rinsed off soap which would account for odd streaks of white on towel, turn water back on, adjust temperature, rinse off, lean sleepily against side again, jolt awake when head bonks into side of shower, climb out, step on cat who has stealthily snuck in to cuddle on towel during second shower, apologize to cat, begin toweling off, realize am covering entire body with cat fur, curse cat, find clean towel while dripping on rug, towel off, lie down exhausted on bed and fall asleep.

At work, discover cannot talk above low throaty whisper a la Lauren Bacall due to excessively sore throat. Gesticulate madly to co-workers, avoid answering phones, cough like barking seal, offer to put together tickets (a job all hate) as feeble way of making up to co-workers for not answering phones, read online diaries, cough like rabid wildebeest in dust storm, take three unavoidable phone calls, lose voice entirely but gain client sympathy, cough up several lungs, get sent home midday by horrified and sympathetic boss.

Arrive train station hoping to find bus or cab, find zero form of transportation in blazing, merciless midday sun. Think strains of Ennio Morricone music begin playing but no, it's only a tumbleweed of old plastic Chinese takeaway bags. Tread one long block to nearest phone booth, call Yellow Cab, arrange for taxi, nip into grocery store for four cans of Friskies cat food to stave off attack by ravenous beasts at home, nip back out in time to see cab careen around corner going wrong way. Gesticulate madly at cab, work up pouring sweat, cough like deranged dingo, clutch bag of cat food to breast in futile bid for sympathy from nearby drivers, see cab veer into view and then turn one block too early and disappear again. Finally get it flagged down, climb in and discover no air conditioning plus driver speaks dubious English. Direct driver to home first by giving house number and cross street, then major route nearby, finally pointing him south and screaming hoarsely, "Turn here! Turn here!" at appropriate points, arrive home safe but sweaty, lose mind and tip him.

Fling off clothes in joy at being home, forget to close curtain so give free show to interested neighbors next door, smooch cats, tread on dog lying in kitchen on cool linoleum, apologize to dog, feed cats, crank up air conditioner, lie down exhausted on bed and fall asleep.

I can't wait for tomorrow.