Thursday, December 19, 2013


....up after dialysis.  Don;t feel  bad; don't feel good either.  Am sort of concerned 'bout getting murdered in my sleep tonight by a vengeful Italiano mafioso grandmama.

You see, every skilled nursing facility, "rehab" centre, and high school  has those think they run things: those to deluded, dim, or beautiful to realize they--and all humans-- merely maintain an illusion of control as we surf the tides fate and fortune.

So this slight, stoop shouldered, shuffling slip of a woman doing laps up and down the hall from after supper until midnight paused early her travels and put her hand on my doorknob and went to close the door.

Don't know why, perhaps just spite or fact had finally door open and view into hall after a  long day of hiding behind a drawn curtain while various indignities and assaults visited upon my person, I told her no.

Then we had a tense 15 minute stand off with her talking in Eyetalian and me saying no.

Good thing she fell for my bluff,

What was I gonna do; get out of bed?

Unfortunately, ain't happenin'.

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