Contact High


I have been alive for enough decades to make a bold statement about decay.

Over the last few denominations of time, marked in series of tens, my eyesight has seriously been veering toward out of focus Avenue…..which is one block past the intersection of read the bottom line of letters on the chart again street and do even know the alphabet lane.

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I used to be able to read the “are you tall enough to ride this ride sign” from the flea circus that was attached to my dog, Mr. Bungledorf, from across the room…

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Now….

I take my best shot at hoping to put a flea collar on the dog instead of the vacuum cleaner.

It would be easy to say that it just happens with age.

Not for me…

I blame global warming.

The stupid polar ice caps are melting and sending colder air down towards normally warm Texas….

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And it had been happening for decades.

This colder air has been getting into my eyes…..freezing my optic nerve sensory pupilated cornea globes and therefore causing my eyesight to worsen.

I have had to change my vision sensors…otherwise known as glasses, 3 times over the last 6 years.

Now I have to wear bifocals….

FREAKING BIFOCALS

Get me Al Gore on the phone.

Anyway,

My new coke bottle prescription will be in….in a week or so.

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I’m getting contacts, too.

But, not until Thursday because I have to be shown how to put them in and clean them.

There sending me to Contact High for the lesson.

How hard could it be?

Just grab some tweezers to prop the lids open and apart……put the contact upside down on my finger and shove it in.

Done.

Class…..I don’t need no stinking class.

I just need to see so I can stop peeing in the closet in the middle of the night.

I used to not have to get up to pee in the middle of the night….

But that global warming……..

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The Faults In The Plan


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‘Til death do us part is not a wedding day challenge to see who will do away the other.

That does not stop my wife from asking me if I am planning to kill her.

I mean that in the sense that she asked me that very question.

I laughed.

And that only fueled her speculation.

So I had to ask….

Why?

She says it’s because I have become withdrawn and reclusive and spend too much time watching…”those shows” on the Netflix.

Withdrawn?…….

Reclusive?…….

Ok…..I can see that without killing any time arguing but “those shows”?

COME ON!

It’s just TV.

I really haven’t watched any TV shows in the last 5-6 years but once I became a mysterious recluse I had to have something to do, so I have been indulging.

I started with “The Blacklist”. A guy on the FBI most wanted turns himself in and wants to help them catch other most wanted dudes but will only talk to a rookie FBI chick if they agree. It’s fast and dramatic. Twists and turns ….blah blah blah. What is really great is the most wanted guy kills without discretion or emotion. He is quite the role model.

(That’s not helping my cause much)

Next….”The Killing”. All I can say about this series is after I was done with the 4 seasons is I needed a shower….badly.

Not because I watched it from start to finish without stopping but because every character made me feel gross about liking the show so much. Lying, shadyness, back stabbing, and the unthinkable killings…..just great stuff!

I just started watching “Dexter”. Police forensics guy who moonlights as a serial killer.

Like I said…..its just TV.

Anyway, I’m not planning on killing her.

And here are my reasons why…..

1- Any time a wife is murdered who is the first suspect?

The husband.

That would be me.

I get grilled when I don’t match the socks right and fold like a cheap suit when I try to deny involvement.

Lesson learned here….I am a terrible liar.

2- To get out of being a suspect an alibi is needed.

If you have read this far, then you will recall that I am a recluse…..a social misfit…more alone than a ribeye at a vegan festival.

I am either with my wife, alone or at work….where I work…..ALONE.

The only ones who could verify my whereabouts would be my dogs….and for a beef basted biscuit they would say anything….BUT THEY CAN’T TALK!

Lesson learned here…..don’t expect any meat n greet at vegan gatherings. That would be barking up the wrong tree.

and lastly…

3- We have been married over 6 years. I’ve never been with anyone who thought I was planning to kill them. It kinda warms my heart.

I’d like that warming to continue-

Til death do us part.

Shell Shook


I felt old….used…..worn out. I had spent the last 4 years putting all my trust and confidence into the few I saw and worked with day in and day out.

As the saying goes, I put all my eggs into one basket, set it on top of a wall and viewed the world from my perch , oblivious to the fact that the ground the wall was built on had a cracked foundation.

Once the wall buckled, the basket tipped and the great Wall of Mine…uh, came tumbling down.¬†

The trust and confidence that were encased within the shells of the fragile  eggs lay strewn and scattered upon the ground.

The yoke was on me.

My wife and family couldn’t put me back together again….no matter how hard they tried.

I just lay there on the ground looking up at the once great wall that was now a broken dream…..a fantasy of wellness and security.

I’m not a pick myself up and get my ass back in gear kinda guy.

I’m a figure out what happened, analyze where I went wrong and change directions to completely avoid the same thing from reoccurring kinda guy.

So…..

After about a month of poor me syndrome, I came up with a game plan-

Shun all human contact, with the exception of wife and family, rebuild the shell with titanium and put trust and confidence in no one outside the confines of my own household.

Just work and be with the family.

Anything else can just suck an egg.

I’ve been a people pleaser my whole life. All it has gotten me is an omelet full of frustrations and regrets.

I just want to feel happy….not old, used and worn out.

I hear happiness is an inside job.

Which I guess means the yoke needs to be somewhere else besides on me.

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