Well, maybe I can get under that umbrella with the Child-of-God dodge. But since we can ALL use that out (even folks who believe that Hawaii is not a part of the United States), it's going to be a crowded umbrella. And I'm not feeling especially childish today.
I'm feeling old. I've spent the last week worrying about the bat infestation in my Aged Parents' house (hundreds of 'em--no shit!), my mom's heart medication, and my poor kitty, Molly, who spent the night before last in the local animal hospital. The bats are gone, though, and the Aged Parents OK. Molly's a limp dishrag, poor kitty, but on the mend thanks to some powerful antibiotics (drugs!! It always comes down to drugs!!). Molly's beating stress by crashing out on her favorite pillow under a lamp that shines down warmly upon her.
I, however, am feeling it. Funny thing about a nuts week. It doesn't just go away all by itself. You have to give it a shove.
In my own doc's office this morning, in for my standard check-up, a colorful but NUTS street-gal type jumped into the middle of everything. I happened to be the talk of the waiting room: the receptionist had asked me about the bats (I live in a small town). Street-type gal took me to task for allowing my Aged Parents to live independently. As if that were my choice (try telling my parents to do anything they don't want to do. Go ahead. I dare you).
And then I got to have my blood pressure taken.
Owing to a newfound ability to feel like I want to yell SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP in someone's face while smiling like the properly-brought-up Episcopalian I am without spiking my vital signs, the BP was good. But today, I don't just want to do a cocktail show. I want a cocktail.
We'll meet at 4PM, on Randoradio.com, and have a Manhattan, OK?
What's your choice of bitters?