Yeah, these things are getting harder and harder to post. Today, for example, I just ran out of time with everything. I'm lucky I got to write anything at all earlier today. I'm going to rethink how I do these. Maybe I don't need to put them together last minute. Maybe I can chip away at them over the course of the day. I did that a few times, which I always admitted to in those essays.
Ordinarily I would have had one for you yesterday, but I didn't get home until 8 pm. My bedtime is usually 9-ish. Every time I sit down to write a GF, I look at the time, and I think, what the fuck? Is it really that late? I need to get in bed right now if I'm going to wake up on time tomorrow.
That kind of thing. So I don't know when I'm going to post them from now on. It won't be a regular thing. Who knows? They might be a pleasant surprise for everyone, me included.
I was late getting home last night because I saw my podiatrist. I usually have to be added on as the last appointment of the day, which is after the office closes. I expected to get home at 8:30, but traffic was fucking amazing going to DeKalb. I made it in barely under an hour, which is the fastest I've made that drive so far. (She's in Lombard, for those local to the area.)
By the way, she horrified me again with another Terrible Story in Leg Cage History. Since my phone died, I no longer have pictures of my leg with the cage on it. I'm sure I've posted them here before, if you want to go hunting. But imagine wearing one of those, with metal rods going through your flesh and bone, and then deciding, what the hell, doing some Stair Master exercises would hit the spot right now.
The story about the guy wearing it for a decade is just gross, but the Stair Master thing? That's a real dick-shriveler.
She also referred to the slight opening I have on the side of my foot as "the bane of my existence." I concurred. It's one of the many banes of my existence, personally.
To quote Hunter S. Thompson, "OK for now." I'm not sure when we'll meet next, but to quote my grandfather, who bore some resemblance to HST in his younger years, "Sweet dreams, pleasant dreams, and all that kind of gas." He would pronounce that last word as "gazzzzz." TL;DR: Goodnight, fuckers.
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