here, and you can give blood locally – contact your local hospital or health care system.
“These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of America’s resolve”
* * *
The spud was practicing her flute two nights ago, and she was in the midst of a verrrrrry long song, wherein she repeated the same loud, ear-piercing note over and over for, well, forever. Miz Poo, who had been snoozing peacefully on her pillow, finally lifted her head and shot a look of disgust in the direction of the flute-playing.
That’s pretty much how we all felt.
I dreamed last night not of burning towers or cities that looked like war zones, but that Fred had gone out, in the middle of the night, and adopted a little tan weiner dog, and I woke up to find the weiner dog – Howard – curled against the back of my legs, and when I moved my legs away from him in surprise, he responded by pooing on my pillow and stomping away on his stubby little weiner-dog legs.
I also dreamed of third-world prisons. In fact, I was imprisoned in a nameless third-world prison, along with
Henry Rollins. We spent the whole time screaming about the rats. Hank, I was displeased to find, was just a big baby about that sort of thing.
* * *
You know what really gets me? When I was younger, I had a finely honed instinct for when things were about to go to shit. A sixth sense, a feeling that something was going to happen, that “waiting for the other shoe to drop” feeling before something happened. The day Reagan was shot, I was home sick, and I had a jittery, unsettled feeling most of the morning, until I saw the news reports on TV, and then that feeling was gone. The day the Challenger blew up, I had the same feeling all day at school, until we found out what had happened.
But yesterday morning, I slept in an extra twenty minutes or so, and when I rolled out of bed, after petting and talking to Miz Poo for another ten minutes, I was in a great mood. Looked forward to lifting weights and maybe cleaning the bathroom (looked forward to getting the bathroom clean, I mean. Not the actual process of cleaning the bathroom, because I’m not some sick person who enjoys cleaning) and doing some reading. I had not the slightest inkling of what was happening as I walked downstairs and set the litter boxes out to soak in the back yard. Not a clue as I sat down at the computer and checked my email.
Just a day like any other, right?
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