I cancelled my trip to my parents' tomorrow because my rear wheel on my truck is making noises, and giving a bumpy ride: I don't want to have to be towed up Interstate 75, and I really do not enjoy seeing my parents anymore, and that makes me feel guilty. My mom keeps talking about her colonoscopy, and other inappropriate topics, and it is sad and, also, depressing (see paragraph one).
I am working in my yard a lot less than I should: the heat is too much for me, and I always get bitten or sweat burns my eyes, or I get so hot that I get dizzy, or I can't start the lawnmower, or I can't lift the bags of compost, etc. etc. It is always something itchy or painful or sore. I wish I had the money to pay to have it done, but I don't, and, as I am not working yet, may as well do the landscaping: but physical work is not me.
One nice thing: my old high school friend, Floyd, met me at Regency Square and gave me free contact lenses. If they work, I will buy more from him--not exactly how heroin pushers do it, but sorta. He thinks I look like this Playboy Playmate from years ago, named Barbie Benton, but I think I look better, so there you go. I was mad at him for two years because he just stopped emailing and calling me, but, for some reason, he is back.
So I am going to New York on Wednesday, seeing my son, his softball game, and a pizza party, then, probably, training out to Bay Shore until Sunday when I have to get the train back to JFK to fly to Los Angeles to spend a week with my daughters, planning a wedding and trying not to embarrass my older daughter.
When I return to Tampa on Nov 4, I will have to find a job, or start substitute teaching, or something. Oh no.
