Hey I’m home again and I’ve got time to write, AKA I am just not going to do anything else so it seems like I have time to write. I just cut the fingertips off some old gloves, I’ve always wanted to do it but never have. My hands get cold when I type. Now I look like the artful dodger. They’re stretchy gloves so the elastic has pulled them down around my knuckles. Bad plan.

I listened to the news and Marc Maron again today. There was this Julia Sweeney on Marc Maron talking about how her brother died from Lymphoma. They didn’t even see it until it was stage 4 because he didn’t have health insurance. I haven’t been to the doctor in a long time, hope I’m one of the lucky ones. My back hurts. Could be a sign of amyloidosis.

Listen to this sentence:

Frank lived with his mother, a strange and wonderful woman of sixty-eight who had finally achieved her lifelong dream of being on Medicare.

Well, I’m going to write more of this god damn story. This is day five, sweet! I’m going to try to hit two thousand words before I slow down today.

I trained a new guy at work today for an hour or so. He founded a Shakespeare company.

It was weird and it happens whenever I train people, I just went on and on about nothing and everything. Anything they ask I just go off in a bored voice about all kinds of dumb shit. I think I must be hyper tuned into the hierarchy of employment or something. It’s like the people that have been there a long time I can’t really open up to them maybe because I’m intimidated by their seniority. But this guy has just as much experience as them and is older than me, but he’s new to the restaurant, so I don’t know I guess I am not at all intimidated even to the point where I can’t stop talking. Like today I was spewing this slow drawling diatribe about how everything is bullshit and he was obviously not into it but I couldn’t fucking stop.

Oh man I just put my coffee up on the counter and I hit the bottom of it against the hard countertop. What if that shit had shattered all over the place. I’d be out like 20 minutes of my life and a cup of coffee. Cleaning that shit would be a nightmare. Man that’s the kind of shit that happens to me, too, so when it doesn’t, I try to pause and be grateful. My grandfather always used to say, “If that’s the worst thing that ever happens to you, I’d wish it on you.” As a kid I never understood what those words together meant. Like I remember when I asked my parents what “taken for granted” meant. It was years before I untangled that rat’s nest.

This is my 177th post. How was your day?