What? Ya'll ain't believin' I am sittin' 'round in my bathrobe, fully dressed? Ya'll are thinkin' this is another one of those pranks like when I said I was wearin' Bermuda shorts when I don't even own Bermuda shorts? Well, fooled ya again, didn't I, 'cause I am actually sittin' 'round in my bathrobe, fully dressed. It is cold, has been cold and will likely be cold for a bit longer. I did not feel up to undressin' when I got home from work and was sittin' here bloggin' when I began to feel a bit chilled. I thought about puttin' on my long leather overcoat, the one I wear when I am venturin' 'bout durin' the day, but I thought it might be just a bit heavy to be sittin' here bloggin' in ... then I thought of my terry cloth bathrobe. It fit the bill nicely and I am warm and snug.
Well, 'ceptin' for my feet. My feet are cold. They seem to stay pretty cold most of the time. I think it is an old man thing, though. I think my old heart just has a hard time pumpin' warm blood all the way down there. It seems that I 'member my ol' great-granddaddy used to sit around most evenin's with his feet sittin' in a tub of hot water filled with Epsom Salt. I always thought it was because his feet hurt, but maybe it was 'cause they was cold. Oh, but my feet hurt too. I figure that comes from gettin' old too. I ain't really likin' gettin' old.
Seems I was thinkin' the other day about Heather and her hair. Heather had the prettiest curly hair and she went and straightened it. I see all these gals with lovely straight hair who work all day to get it curly. I see all these guys with these beautiful thick heads of hair who shave it all off. What I have never seen is anyone wish all their hair would fall out -- it just happens -- like shit happens, I guess. And I have gotten to the point where I really do wish it would all fall out.
Well, I gotta get to bed. I am suppose to be in court to see whether or not I am to go to jury trial on one of my cases tomorrow. This one is in a different neighborin' town than where I usually seem to have to head off to almost three times a week. I am hopeful that I do not have to go to trial tomorrow. My client is in his late fifties, a chronic alcoholic in the last stages of liver disease, and I suspect will not live long. If we can postpone the trial, maybe he can die in the free world instead of behind bars. Also, he has not even gotten close to havin' paid me enough money to take this case to a jury trial. However, with my luck, the trial will begin tomorrow. I can't get to my navel to gaze, and my hands are too cold to do a manual probe. I am assumin' it is alright restin' atop my gurglin' stomach which is workin' hard to digest that packet of graham crackers I downed while readin' some of ya'll's blogs. Unless the stomach blows, and I cannot promise it won't, I suspect the navel is fine. If not, I will make sure ya'll are the first to know. End of report.
Posted by notGeorge at January 20, 2004 12:01 AM | TrackBack