CHOICE ROOMMATES

I've had my fair share of odd roommates.

My first roommate in college woke up each and every morning SMILING - it was horrible.

I had a roomie who planted marijuana in my terrarium without my knowledge (or permission).

But after seeing my brother's latest two roommates, I have nothing to complain about.

He is still in a nursing home recovering from and adjusting to his leg amputation.

And I haven't been all that sympathetic to his complaining about his roommate's serious coughing - I mean, the man's trying to breath, right? And it isn't that bad of a cough... well, at least when you don't have to listen to it 24/7.

So today I visited him for the first time in his new room, and was greeted cheerfully (which hasn't been the norm) by a fully dressed (even to his shoe) adult male.

I didn't realize that sleep deprivation had been effecting his personality so much.

And hopefully this will continue.  Because his roommate is borderline comatose.

IS IT THAT TIME OF NIGHT ALREADY?

I've always been a night-owl.

I loved working nights through college. The funniest things always seem to happen around 2 a.m.

Even meals at Denny are lovely at 3:30 a.m.



Reality as a whole becomes something completely different after you've been awake over 24 hours.





And it's true that sleep deprivation can make you criminally insane.


But even now I end up staying awake much later than I know is good for me.







Only because I know I can go back to sleep after I feed the horses in the morning.



So why am I writing this?







As an excuse to stay up just a little bit later.

MOTHER AND CHILD

Haven't you heard people say, "Oh, I learned such-and-such from my mom."  (Well, the "such-and-such" part isn't something you have normally hear, right?)

But you know, like "My mom taught me how to make the best cakes," or "My mom was the one I'd call whenever I needed advice," or "My mom showed me the best way to kick a guy in his testicles." 

I didn't ever have that kind of relationship with my mother - I learned to cook from college room-mates, I called my dad when I needed advice, and I learned how to knee someone on my own.
 But I do have this kind of relationship with my oldest daughter.

It's just flip-flopped.

Earlier this week, I was wearing Harmony's jeans jacket, wearing her brown shoes, doing "the loop" in Target, with a not-quite-iPhone-but-almost in my pocket and her iPod in my ears. I went home and made the chicken salad recipe she gave me. And called her that night to ask advice.

Is this healthy?

I got to wait HOW long?!?

There is an annoying commercial that had been driving me NUTS ever since I saw it about a month ago.


Although I am beginning to wonder if I imagined it - I can't find a video of it on YouTube, so maybe it doesn't really exist in this particular time-dimension....


This is about a guy who is all upset because of 'irregularity' - not having 'regular movements' - needing to 'improve your digestion' - you know what it's referring to.

(Completely random thought - why is it okay for the word 'penis' to be on television, but somehow 'bowel movement' is not appropriate? Anyone wanna tell me?)



So this middle-aged American white guy (yeah, let's typecast this dude, okay?) is distraught because, and I quote, he "can't wait seven days!" for the 'other' form of relief (yogurt? drinking water? regular exercise? fiber?) for his... well, his "problem."

So he HAS to have the whatever-the-immediate-relief-thing is.


But this is the phrase in the commercial that just kills me - "I can't wait seven days."

So I just gotta find this fellow and ask him, "So where are you gonna be in seven days?"


It's like when people, when talking about going back to college, say, "But man, I'll be forty by the time I graduate!"


So you aren't going to be forty if you don't go back to school?


If you are forced to take a 'shorter' remedy for your digestive tract problem, than you are restricted from taking a 'longer', perhaps better one, that may take - GASP! - SEVEN DAYS!?


We, as Americans, are such an immediate gratification freaks.


However.

I must admit something.

I had a skin biopsy two weeks ago.

And didn't find out the results until yesterday, after 17 days of waiting.


It was just a place on my shoulder that never healed up; sort of like an open scrape. And if two family members hadn't already been diagnosed with skin cancer, I probably wouldn't have done anything about it for quite a while.


But once the "c" word is out there, it's just what comes back the next time you have, say, a sore - an ache in your side - trouble breathing - etc. etc. etc.


I'm okay - I've got what is called "actinic keratosis" (which sounds like it should be some sort of adorable disorder toddlers develop from drinking kerosene, doesn't it), which is the most common precancerous growth - and only about 5% develop into actual skin cancer.


But boy, did I want that 'immediate' report. Right then.