Losing a part of me

How exciting… today’s the day I go in for the second part of my dental surgery. I am not excited about that.

I was excited that I not only decided to but actually bought a treadmill yesterday. I am not excited that while trying to put it into my car I broke a finger. To add insult to injury, my finger was trapped in the treadmill for ten minutes while the teenaged girl who was selling it to me tried in vain to not panic. This was not the first time in my life that as the injured party I had to calm and console the other person. This poor girl did not do anything wrong, but I could not convince her of that. I finally told her to get some liquid soap so that I could extricate my finger from the vice-like grip. The fact that I did not react at all – I did not raise my voice, I did not swear or curse – was a feat. I rewarded myself by smoking a $500 cigar when I got home… and self-medicated with what I will call Scottish Penicillin.

All this, and I still do not have the treadmill. I have left a down-payment for it so it is mine, but I have to go back with a friend to pick it up.

I suspect that my weight would have dropped a bit more this morning had I not had the whisky… or at least if I had not had so much of it.

See you tomorrow.