Wandering, Wishing and Wondering on a Dreamy, Drowsy Day

He awoke early with the sun for a change. Groggily, from a late night when sleep did not come, as it often did not. He waited for slumber to arrive like a spouse waiting on the partner who had to work late: restlessly. To pass the time before her return, he watched a digital video recording of thin, super strong young men riding their bikes across Spain. A place he’d been many years ago and found himself pining for. He pined a fair bit these days, to anyone who would listen. About his underappreciated, unpaid blog and book writing. Or the aches and pains of an aging cyclist. And his unwillingness to settle for another low-paying job with a boss and all that jazz, while he struggled to start being an self-employed contractor. He couldn’t figure out how to do the job without a car but paradoxically he needed money from a job to get a car. After 13 years since his vehicle was smashed by a reckless driver, a car seemed like it would be nice. Yet it could also mean certain death to whatever modicum of fitness he had, he thought, because biking is sweaty, hard and uncomfortable, and driving a car is easy. And easy is boring. Which rhymes with snoring, which is what he should be doing, he mused.

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A Dude Walks Into a Cardiologist’s Office…

…Where I Saw a Moving Painting of a Goat. I Said to it Softly: Be Still My Bleating Art!

I passed through the clinic atrium and sat in the antiseptic, bright, white-walled room. I waited, patiently. The doctor had kept me there for almost an hour and half, and I was losing heart. The cheap clinic clock hands were so loud, they really ticked me off. News on my phone was about the horrible, overweight US president yelling about quitting the nuclear agreement with Iran. Tinyhands Orangehead was so angry and red-faced that he looked lipid.

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