November 1, 2013
A few days reprieve from the Blog since I didn’t have access
to the internet secret code where I am staying. My psychic skills do not
include passwords and social security numbers. Drat.
The start of a chill and scratchy throat, sensation of
heaviness in my nasal cavity lead to overindulging on orange juice and fizzy
EmergenC tablets. I didn’t have to show three forms of ID with those purchases
so I sailed through the line at the drug store that carries far too much junk
food for the population’s good. I ended up with $25 worth of goods in my
plastic sack, knowing I can always use the bag for kitty litter clean-up
afterwards. The warm ginger ale I snagged for my queasy stomach (most likely
from too much leftover trick-or-treat candy) sprayed over my lap, newly-washed
coat and the console while driving down a side street, swerving to avoid curbs
on either side. Unfortunately, I failed to pack extra clothes for the bottom
half of my body, the overnight bag stuffed with books, dog supplies and
journaling material left no margin for pants. So, I slip on a robe from the
hook in the closet and proceed to clomp down the shared-basement stairs, hoping
to avoid the other occupants in the building. My hair stands on end, much like
anyone who played the Joker character, and I know I am a fright. The clothes
washer is occupied so I have to retrace my wobbly steps and hope I can manage
in the borrowed robe for another few hours. Another cup of coffee and scanning
the umpteen tv channels will keep my mind off of the tenuous circumstances.
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