Always do whatever’s next . ———–George Carlin
Here I am in Poland with a head cold , a cloth wrapped around my throat . Ada insisted on the cloth . I feel like a dog just home from the vet that’s wearing one of those plastic protective collars that look like pale megaphones . Well , I exaggerate only slightly .
Last year here I got sick for a week , some mysterious weakness that had me laid up day after day with no apparent symptom other that complete fatigue . I lost ten pounds .I kept them off for a couple of months , too . Ada wanted me to see a doctor last year , but I felt that the next day I’d be fine . When that didn’t happen , then the next day I was sure I’d be fine . And so on .
Ordinarily I’d be out wandering around the city . We haven’t taken the cruise boat yet , up and down the river for an hour . It looks like a good day for that , but here I am in the apartment at the keyboard thinking , well , tomorrow I’ll be fine . Maybe tomorrow for the cruise .
Ada is off to the Galaxy mall with the grandkids . I’m sure they will stop at the food court for a Mac Donald’s burger , or for an ice cream on the ground floor near the fountain . Who knows ? For the last couple of days they’ve been walking in the parks and taking the trams and visiting great- grandma at her flat on the far side of the city .I’m drinking tea with honey and lemon , taking aspirin , and taking naps now and again . The neighbor upstairs suggested a few stiff shots of Irish whiskey . The neighbor didn’t attend medical school , as far as I know , but he might be on to something .