Whinge today. Ulcer-free tomorrow.
Least that’s what I’m hoping to accomplish by this post.
How is Forgetting to do Something You Were Never Told to do Forgetting?
Smoker roommate keeps a folded wet soaped washcloth in the sink of our shared bathroom for the purpose of cleaning her hands in lieu of running the water (to keep water costs down).
This morning I was admonished thusly: “You forget to put the washcloth back into the sink again.”
I’d set it where the soap bar typically goes alongside the faucet to keep it clear of my spit ‘n’ stuff while using the sink.
Since I’d never been told to keep the washcloth in the sink, how could I have forgotten?
Since the only chance for passing peace and sanity here is to pick no battles, I simply replied “OK.”
Took me back to the rapping I got at Week 1 when I was given a short tour of all I’d done wrong — in this instance I hadn’t plugged back in her hand-wax warming machine thingy that I’d unknowingly unplugged.
That was some tongue-lashing! “This must always be on! It takes a long time to warm up!” she reprimanded as we stood in the little bathroom whose walls were squeezing in by the moment.
Well, I’d never been told to keep it plugged in at all times!
That was my first real taste of the person with whom I share space.
The unspoken question I yearned to ask was: “If it’s so important to have it plugged in at all times, why was it left unplugged for a week after I’d unknowingly unplugged it?”
Questions involving logic and reason fall on deaf ears and unbalanced minds. I learned rapidly to hold silent and let her be right because she’ll be right regardless. You men who have dated and/or married women of a particular breed know of what I speak.
I dislike being treated like an incompetent child subject to criticisms and scoldings at another’s irrational behest; I am so anything but. There’s little room for me to be here; shine? forget it. Then there’s the question: Am I alive?
I’m Alive. Really?
Yesterday I did the free blood pressure machine check at the market. I do that periodically to make sure I’m alive.
Unlike great numbers of Americans with high blood pressure, my issue is the opposite, it’s low. (That carries consequences and health risks as well.)
I couldn’t believe my eyes when the red digital figures appeared. Yow. So I did it a second time. Similar results: 69/37.
So I asked the pharmacist: “Are you sure your machine’s right?”
“Yes, it did mine accurately.”
“Well, 69 over 37 seems a bit low.”
Slight alarm crossed his face. “Yes, that’s dizzy and fainting. That’s go-t0-the-hospital-now low.” FYI, 50/35 is bordering comatose, leaving a fine line that I’m walking.
Speaking of which, it’s surprising I am! “Yeah, I thought so,” I replied.
Perhaps their unit’s due for its monthly calibration. I can hope. In the meantime, I’m on the lookout for machines elsewhere to retest and establish whether I am indeed alive or amongst the walking dead.
P.S. Don’t write me off as the latter yet; a couple cups of coffee and a jog around the block before retesting will shoot those numbers right up.