a body at rest…

Two days back in the office… ok… technically one and a half days. 

i appeared for only 4 hours on Monday, returning home to nap extensively late afternoon.  After spending three glorious days perfecting “horizontal”, i’ve been annoyed with “vertical”.  During the course of my forced convalescence for knee surgery, i’ve gotten in touch with my inner sluggard.  In fact, she’s a bit of all right…

In perfect Trailer Park form, i’ve rediscovered some bad habits as well.  Friday night, while drinking gin and tonic, eating girl scout cookies – feet propped up on pillows?  i called The Boy, who was making a beer run, and said “what time ya coming back?  Bring yer Momma some smokes, ‘k?”

i mean, if you’re going to be fucking off, watching tv and napping aggressively, a pack of Marlboro’s is a fundamental right, isn’t it?  Proving – as if there was ever any doubt – that i would be quite comfortable as a welfare mother*.  In fact, i think i would be so good at it, i could teach classes, if that didn’t require effort.  Or being vertical.  Trailer Park roots run deep.

After my first full day in the office today, waging never-ending war against technological dinosaurs, i was pretty damn tired.  All i wanted to do was walk the dog, smoke that last cigarette**, and get my ass horizontal.  Working to optimize the most efficient “lazy” strategy on the drive home, i came up with a plan!  i decided that i might be able to handle having the smoke, while walking the dog – knowing that i’d look quite fetching with the dog leash in one hand, cigarette dangling from my thin Appalachian-American lips while i bent over to pick up dog turds in a plastic bag. 

As i drove up to my garage, it seemed that every neighbor was out and about… including the ‘man-about-condo’ guy who likes to chat, and the sweet, lonely elder-widow who is fixated on my dog.  Hmmm… a quick walk (me & dog)/dump (dog) seemed unlikely.  By the time i’d unloaded my backpack and keys, harnessed up the mutt-nugget, and headed outside, the neighborhood discussion group had expanded – and was congealed right outside my open garage door.  No turning back and no way to avoid conversation.

Even more fun?  The young girl across the street with her 2 lb puppy had joined the pack…  Mr. Pickles the Wonder Dog apparently forgot that i’m 5 days post-op for knee surgery, and decided to bolt after Yappy McHairball. 

(sigh)

Disaster averted – i managed to get my good leg planted before 100 pounds of slobber-dog hit the end of the leash.  Turds dropped and retrieved.  Cigarette smoked from my back deck – empty pack disposed of without a second thought of buying another.  Off for a nap…

~~~~~~~~~~~

* meant in the spirit of the “Neil Young” usage of the term… “Di-vor-CEEEEEEEEE”

** i quit smoking “full time” in 1985 (having smoked my first cig at 7 years old or so).  i’m one of those “social” smokers – if there’s a beer and a friend with a pack?  i’ll have one.  if i’m doing a show with the theatre posse?  generally i’ll even buy a pack – quitting afterwards without a second thought… hate the smell, and hate the way it makes me feel after a pack, so before you start with the good-natured ‘nagging’, don’t worry about it… this will be it until the next show.  Or surgery.

15 thoughts on “a body at rest…

  1. The Boyo is also a social smoker, so I know they exist. But he never smokes indoors, and never around me because of my asthma. But you creatures are rare indeed.

    Glad you didn’t get pulled around by the mutt. Glad my mutt thinks she’s a people, and pays no attention to dogs. All three of us, (me, The Boyo, and Friday) are looking forward eagerly to your visit.

  2. No worries about an occasional cig, we all have our petty vices – I’ve been trying to break the habit of spray cheese and malt liquor for years but every time I watch re-runs of the A Team I can’t control myself –
    I PITY THE FO !!

  3. knowing that i’d look quite fetching with the dog leash in one hand, cigarette dangling from my thin Appalachian-American lips while i bent over to pick up dog turds in a plastic bag.

    ….the only thing missing from this description is a too-short, tight mini-skirt and fishnet stockings…otherwise the image is….perfect!

  4. I quite like to analyse your posts by dissecting them piece by piece.
    I’m yet to find a single sentence without a twist or a turn, or which fails to hold my interest.

    cigarette dangling from my thin Appalachian-American lips while i bent over to pick up dog turds in a plastic bag.

    A classic line. Pure Hollywood.

  5. I only smoke when I do the 3hr tour to cleveland to get the boyo–and only when I’m alone in the car…
    we live on a corner lot and I hate going out when I’m in my junkie sweats and old shirt sans makeup–there is always some neighbor going by then,,never when I’m in full gear and makeup..
    no that I don’t work anymore I do feel like the trailer park mom…eat too much, drink about 20 cups of coffee per day and just don’t take care of myself anymore..(working on changing that..one day at a time)

  6. silverstar – i won’t smoke indoors, either. and i pick up my butts. if i’m going to poison my lungs, i like to be responsible about it! REALLY getting jazzed about our meet up next week!

    WTG – spray cheese… oh, yeah, baby. “Power Cheese”, shot directly down the gullet. Washed down with a ‘forty’? heaven. thanks for the reminder… off to shop…

    rob – it was a “caveman” t-shirt, pajama bottoms. to get it right? i think painted on blue jeans and 3″ stiletto heels… or bowling shoes, since i AM recovering…

    jimmy – very kind of you. i tend to do the same with your words – reading, and re-reading. perhaps between the two of us, there’s a hollywood screenplay – Tales of a Glaswegian Trailer Park. Tarrantino wants to direct it. He just doesn’t know it yet…

    tNb – doc said many folks take an entire week off. i should have. i REALLY should have milked this. even have crutches, which i didn’t use after the trip home, as i was more likely to injure myself on them than just hopping around… ugh…

    nursemyra – you, my dear, can not only nag me… but i suspect i should be severely punished as well! [bows down to accept spanking]

    unbearable banishment – excellent point! except keeping with the theme, it would be a large, hair-encrusted man, short on teeth. wearing a dirty ‘wife-beater’, torn NASCAR boxer shorts, and fanning me with a copy of the National Enquirer…

    kyknoord – damn the entropy, full speed ahead!

    kono – i like that it makes me feel so grungy. my mouth tastes like Lenny Bruce’s ashtray must have looked… what i hate is the taste of smoke in my mouth, 3 days after my last cigarette, while doing laps in the pool, running or exerting myself and squeezing the smoky air out of my pulmonary capillaries… blech.

    hisqueen – it would be so very easy to settle into such a relaxed routine. it would also, after a week or so, become very difficult to self-motivate… it would have to be one day at a time for me, too…

  7. You realize with my West Virginia heritage this post is like an aphrodisiac?

    “All i wanted to do was walk the dog, smoke that last cigarette**, and get my ass horizontal.” – Would you settle for doing it doggie-style while smoking a cigarette?

  8. archie – it’s thursday. i want another pack for the weekend. i may have to abstain for a bit longer just to make sure i don’t pick up the habit again… and 14 hour days? Blechhhh!

    uncle keith – you’re on to me… first drive you mad with desire? then steal all of your costumes… oh, and dogs shouldn’t smoke.

    dolce – serious? why start now?

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