More Humiliation

1 Jun

Dear All Good People:


I decided to take a few days and just chill up at my family’s place in Vail.  The snow sucks and the locals don’t think it will snow again until next November, but it has been nice because I have cable and I can work on my book (yes, I’m writing a book: it started as an email and I call it a book because I’m 60 pages and over 15,000 words in, so email really isn’t the appropriate term and, as far as I can tell, it is only interesting in terms of the fact that I have master’s degrees yet I cannot spell, employ correct grammar, or have a basic understanding of story structure; I’m going to use it as evidence that I should get a refund from my college….I digress, though).  It’s very pretty out, the weather is warm, and I actually went two days without having a panic attack.  This hasn’t happened since 2000.


That’s not a joke.


What happens next I’m going to refer to as probable my first confirmed (yes, confirmed) heart attack.  


I’m also thinking of accepting the fact that God is done merely messing with me to trying to kill me in the most interesting and embarrassing fashion possible (question: if God is all-knowing, all-powerful, and doesn’t have a kill-switch on being awesome, how can I still be alive?  My answer: God is the sporting type).  


For those of you who have never lived in a resort town, it is common practice for people to just walk into a house.  My family’s place is fairly large and is best described as the MC Esther house: you are either walking up the stairs or down the stairs.  Tons of room that could function essentially as free-standing and self-sustaining hotel rooms, which is way my Dad bought it.  And, yes, every room has its own TV.  It’s the perfect place to pretend you are spending time with your family while sitting in a room by yourself watching sitcoms.  


My Dad is a genius.  


You combine the observation I came up here to get some privacy and exercise on a whim with the idea that people are paid good money to make sure the house doesn’t blow up or burn down and you can safely conclude nobody knows who is supposed to be here at what time.  


I forgot this.  


So, when I stripped down to take a nap earlier today, I thought I had privacy.  The motivation being that A) I’m exhausted and B) the Victoria Secret catalogue showed up with a free sample of lotion it inspired me to celebrate some alone time.  Oh, you should also remember the bedroom I sleep in gets very hot, so, when I sleep, I’m in my birthday suit.  


During winter, all of the Vail homes suffer from rodents.  The problem is handled by the local Orkin man who visits the place once a month.  This is a fact I remembered when I suddenly was very close to…relaxing…with lotion…and almost ready to find out Victoria’s Secret…and nude…don’t forget nude…in a bed in the middle of the day…and saw the face of a grey bearded man in my bedroom collecting a dead mouse.  I responded by jumping out of bed, tripping over my jeans, separating my shoulder, and rolling over with all of the dignity I have left (none), and seeing him lean over me and state, sorry for bothering me, and that the best way to get over this is to pretend it never happened.  Did I mention that, of the two people involved in this, only one was wearing any clothes, and it wasn’t me?


Meanwhile, I felt my chest constrain, shooting pain go down my left arm, shortness of breath, a sense of impending doom, and a gentle reminder that maybe I shouldn’t be a cheap skate and pay the extra premium for my blood pressure medication rather than buy it from India.  Since then, I have tingling sensations in my limbs that isn’t going away.  


Well played, God, well played: you almost got me.  Now it’s my turn.


Further Bulletins as Events Warrant




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