"All mankind is divided into three classes: those that are immovable, those that are movable, and those that move."
- Benjamin Franklin
Hang on! We're going to tack hard to the starboard.
I copied that quote in this morning before Tia and I left for the city for dual doctor appointments. Now that I'm back, whatever I was thinking this morning is completely gone and the doctor appointment went as expected.
My doctor was professional, tried to be a bit chatty, spoke English as his first language, had all the equipment he needed for the procedure, and everything went without a hitch (or a stitch, just a Bugs Bunny band-aid, which I'm totally cool with).
Tia went to a specialist where they prodded and poked and hmm'ed and umm'ed and said they were going to order up some tests because the PA and MD had absolutely no clue what was wrong with her.
After that, we did a short bit of shopping. Some essentials from Wal-Mart (I'm slightly ashamed but when time is short, it can't be helped), some blinds for Trey's bedroom, a pair of capris for Tia, and a pair of shorts for me.
It seems that last year I completely wore out every single pair of shorts except one, all in the crotch. This, I could claim as a bragging right but I won't. It was to the point on my favorite pair that should I have chosen to go commando, stuff would have been, uh, turned loose.
Don't ask me how I start a blog post with an inspirational post from Ben Franklin and end up talking about setting my junk free.
I'm going to claim that it's the drugs from my doctor's appointment.
What I'm not going to tell you is that what they used was a minute dose of lidocaine injected in my left calf. Potent stuff, that lidocaine.
Also don't tell the blogger that invited me today to write a guest post for his blog on how to defeat "worry". I don't want him to know that I'm looped on lidocaine and that my new personal betterment blog has turned into a drug-addled meandering starting with Ben Franklin and ending in the crotch of my shorts.
Speaking of which, just this morning while Tia was getting ready for our trip, she (out of the blue) said that I'm crazy.
"Would you like to elaborate or throw out a couple of examples?" I asked.
"No."
She is studying to be a psychologist so I'm half inclined to believe her but I would really like to know what made the thought pop into her head while she was putting on mascara. Just exactly how are the two connected?
By the way, here's a bit of advice for you should you ever find yourself driving from Salt Lake City, Utah across the Bonneville Salt Flats to West Wendover, Nevada. Do NOT slam two 20 ounce bottles of water and then a 20 ounce bottle of Diet Pepsi just prior to the trip. There isn't a tree for 120 miles to hide behind.
Of course, if you're wearing my old shorts, you might be able to pull a sneaky. Point off over the salt so that people look where you are pointing instead of the stream. Remember, don't eat the yellow salt.
Damn lidocaine.
Anyway, as you can tell, another boring day in the life of Success Warrior. I'm home now, quickly did a poor job on my homework that was due tonight, sent an email to my instructor letting her know that the lidocaine is to blame if I did poorly but I'm a genius if I captured the essence of the assignment is so few words, and now I'm going to just relax for a minute and let the drugs wear off before going to bed.
Oh yeah, as Ben said, remember to move. (See how I tied it all in.)
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