Hold on a second while I scream at a fly dive-bombing me in my bedroom.
If you don’t get out of here this second and leave me alone, I’m gonna send you sailing into that wall and I’m afraid you won’t be getting back up!
Okay, I’m back. Forgive me for that little tirade, will you? It’s not like me to want to hurt anything, even a fly. It’s just doing what flies do — being annoying. They can’t seem to help it. But did that stop me from screaming at it? Obviously not. And I’ll tell you why.
A couple weeks ago I posted, Help, I’m Crumbling, about my achy breaky back. The MRI disclosed a herniated disc and 2 collapsing vertebrae. As an added bonus, I’m now blessed with sciatica and a dollop of arthritis in my spine. In other words, I’m a mess. So the next step is an epidural injection of cortisone.
You’ll have to excuse me if I’m slurring my letters. You see, I’m under the influence of weed cream. Therefore, I can’t be held responsible for inappropriate words I’m likely to type. There’s also a chance I might not make sense. But what else is new? Let’s blame it on weed cream.
What, you might ask, is weed cream? Actually, I’m surprised you don’t know. Being one of only 2 other people I’m aware of on the planet who’ve never tried marijuana, I thought pretty much everyone was savvy to the multitude of ways the drug is used. Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve still never smoked the stuff. I’m more interested in the medicinal effects of pot. This is what happens with age.
It’s not that I have anything against pot smokers; I just never had any interest. I did, however, try smoking a cigarette once. It felt like my throat was closing and I’d slowly suffocate to death, whereupon I’d be found days later half-eaten by my dogs. Unlike my cats, they aren’t as particular about what they consume.