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December 09, 2004

10:56 p.m.

Delirium, and a Little Velvet Dog

Sometimes I have trouble focusing when there are too many errands or tasks to be accomplished in a day. And, more and more, I find people's names elude me the moment I reach for them, or words I haven't used in a long time. I'm fairly useless in malls; that much input confuses me. Today I had one such incident that was a little scary, and almost made me cry.

I had about four things to accomplish: laundry & dinner at Rose's, a mammogram appointment, picking up my futon cover (from the mall, argh) and getting a wireless doorbell from Home Depot. These simple things seemed like a lot when I set out, as they were far from where I live and involved some back and forth driving and most of the day. It all started out quite methodically and well.

I went to Rose's to put in the first load. While there I had lunch, and by the time I was done, it was time to put the laundry in the dryer and start the second load. I finished all that up just in time to leave for my mammo appointment. I planned to be there at 2:15; they'd asked me to come a little early for a 2:30 slot. It was about ten minutes to two.

So I left the house, drove down a few streets, and got onto the highway, at which point I happily thought, "Okay, now let's see if I can find a wireless doorbell."

And I went directly to Home Depot, browsed around a while, found a doorbell, looked at towel racks and rugs, picked up some batteries, and was standing in line to pay when all of a sudden I remembered my appointment.

Panicking, I looked at my watch. It was twenty to three. I was at least twenty minutes away from the medical center, and I hadn't paid for my things yet.

I couldn't believe it! How could I be so stupid? I had left Rose's with the express intention of going directly to my boob-squishing appointment, which I'd been thinking about for days so I wouldn't miss it. Somewhere in the next five minutes I totally FORGOT about it.

So I called them right then, and they said to come in anyway, they'd try to squeeze me in (the pun was completely lost on both of us, I'm sure, as I was near tears) between other patients. I paid as quickly as I could and hied myself there.

It wasn't just that I was late, of course. It was the alarming thoroughness with which my brain let go of the game plan that frightened me.

My father became demented in his 70s, quite rapidly, after his last divorce. Granted, he was a heavy drinker his whole life and probably killed off a large percentage of his neurons that way, but his mother was also demented, and she was a holy rollin' teetotaller. If my mind goes early, I just hope there's someone to point me home at the end of the day.

The good news is, my boobies are healthy.

********

The other good news is: I had ordered a slightly less expensive version of the futon cover -- by getting the good fabric just on the top, and a less expensive, plainer fabric for the sides and back. I saved around $40 that way. But when I got it home and unpacked it, what do you know -- they made a mistake, and made the whole cover out of the nice stuff! My lips are sealed!

Now, I'm hoping the actual futon and frame will come in pretty soon.

********

Rose is sick with a version of the cold from hell. I didn't give it to her; I hadn't even been over there for a couple of weeks. I risked the visit for laundry & dinner, but washed my hands a lot.

********

Dar insists that Kevin Spacey is gay. It could be a jealousy issue, but then, it would just figure. Handsome guy, never linked with a woman... getting into his lounge lizard act... I laughed and said, all the better to have a crush on him, because he's "safe!"

********

I found a local artisan's store right down the street that has just fabulous pottery from someone in Hartford. She makes one of a kind pieces, a lot of little, asymmetrical plates with polka dots on them, amazing teapots, wonderful little pinch pottery bowls, thin and delicate. I anticipate dropping a lot of money there annually. Her prices are very reasonable, but of course that makes one buy several at once. Pottery delights me unlike anything else. I love to see what people make with their hands.

********

And that, I think, is that. I finished reading the lame mystery novel and have started Haruki Murakami's "The Windup Bird Chronicle." It's fascinating and dreamlike. I plan to take it to bed shortly. I have also started sleeping with a little stuffed dog. I haven't done this since I was a child, but here is how it happened: this little dog (purple crushed velvet) was something Carol won at a carnival, after whupping my ass at Whack-a-Mole twice. (I was going for accuracy, not speed.) So she got her dog and let me pick the second one. I have a few little stuffed things, but this one never seemed to have a place among my critters. So after I moved, I thought I would take it to the Salvation Army and let some little kid enjoy it.

It sat on a cabinet by the back door for a while, and one day I picked it up, intending to take it out, but one look into its little face and I absolutely couldn't. I couldn't get rid of it. It seemed cruel and cold.

Besides, it reminded me a little of Sleepy Sam, the (larger) yellow stuffed dog that mom got me from the Sears catalogue (remember those?) when I was just wee, maybe five years old, and I slept with Sam for YEARS, until he was squashed sideways and all worn out, and even then kept him tucked away in a closet, until one day when I was in my mid twenties I found him in my dad's house and threw him out with the trash.

I have sorely regretted it since.

So, even though the little purple dog is much smaller than Sleepy Sam, he's reclining in the same way, and the more I thought about it, the more I needed to keep him and give him a place of his own. So he became the bed dog, and I tuck him wherever he'll fit, under my arm or alongside a pillow, or sometimes, when it's cold in the room (which is often), I'll just place him over my neck, where the covers don't reach, and he keeps me warm.

And I call him Sammy.

I realize that I'll be 46 in a week, but no one else is sleeping in my bed, so why not a little velvet dog?


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