My next trick, or further news from the health front, most of it lousy

Well, I suppose I could sit here on my aching rump and complain morning, noon, and night, but a young French person of my acquaintance (yes, I mean you, Audrey, and don’t start disputing my use of the word young; I have socks older than you are) states that it is important to maintain a positive attitude towards life, so that is what I am going to do, even if maintaining a positive attitude towards anything for very long really isn’t me.  There are people who see the metaphorical glass as half-full and others who see the glass as half-empty, and then there are those who see the glass as a sinister tool in a contemptible Communist plot to steal Merchandise 7X, the secret formula for Coca-Cola. I count myself as one of these sober-minded citizens, and as such wonder why more of America’s secrets aren’t in the same Atlanta bank vault as Merchandise 7X? From the record, they would appear safer there than some secure vault in the Pentagon.

In any case, I am going to do the positivity thing if it kills me, so here we go with positivity. I have yet to hear from the good folks at the insurance group that handles minor civil servants such as myself.  My doctor wants me to get an MRI, which as we all know, is a prohibitively expensive procedure, and so I am waiting to find out if my plan will actually pay for this. If not, then no MRI.  It’s not like I can’t afford it, if push comes to shove. I got a nice refund from the IRS this year and I suppose I could use that if I had to, but then I would have nothing to pay the school taxes with in September, and I don’t think the teachers’ union will accept my bad back excuse for not coughing up their dough, anymore than they’d accept my diabetes and arthritis excuses as reasons for not paying.  The bastards want their money up front and they want it up front now.  I suspect that most teachers’ unions supplement their income by working as enforcers for loan sharks, but more than one person has told me that it’s not wise to bring the subject up, so let’s just say that I didn’t, okay?

I am also getting a lot of advice on how to deal with the ice pick currently wedged in my back and hip. My brother the Navy man, which does not describe him well, given that three of my brothers have been in the Navy, but let’s just say that this one was in the Navy the longest, he says that I should stand at parade rest and walk in such a way that my legs do not protrude from beneath my shoulders.  I am not sure how this is possible, unless I try to walk like Frankenstein’s monster.  This method may work well in secret laboratories in Transylvania, but I fail to see the utility in modern America.  I should also hasten to point out that it may be possible for a veteran of twenty years of naval service to stand at parade rest for a prolonged period of time, but those of us without military experience might find the prospect more than a little daunting. In short, this is not going to work and I don’t give a damn how not positive this makes me sound.

So while all the bureaucratic wheels are turning, I am living on painkillers in a house where another brother and his wife are visiting.  Since marital discord is what keeps these two together; no, I can’t explain it, either; I must listen to them argue about money, cholesterol, clothes, his weight (she’s right—he could stand to lose another fifty or sixty pounds, but I’m keeping that to myself) from early in the morning to late in the evening. This is why I am on a computer at work whining about the pain I’m in, even though I am off this week, theoretically because I am in too much pain to go to work.  It really is more than a little pathetic, isn’t it?  Well, once I get some good news I will lift all of your spirits with no end of positivity.  Hey, baseball season has started, and that’s always good news! So there you go, good news already!