October 11th, 2013
The other night Hill and I had a very nice little date. That is to say that I didn’t cook dinner. Instead we went out to eat and sat down at a table across from each other and talked. We were married on a full moon, and it was always our idea that we would go on a date every full moon to celebrate our monthly anniversary. It turned out that we sucked at it. First we had to keep track of the full moons (I finally bought her a moon chart as a little birthday gift at some point), but even then it proved hard to do. We used to joke that in our first two years of marriage we had managed to go out on our full moon date about 4 times.
Now that I’m quite a lot sicker, though, we’ve been going out to eat quite a lot more. Between the very nice people who have been sending us on our mystery dinners, and just a general level of fatigue at that time of day, a dinner out has become less of a strange occurrence.
We sat and we talked mostly about the various projects that hill is working on. She’s up to her elbows. The work she’s doing makes me very proud indeed, not to sound patronizing. Most simply boiled down, the projects that she’s working on are advocacy/activism projects that center around guaranteeing housing for everyone by taking speculation out of the housing market, and ending discriminatory policing designed to intimidate and alienate people in their own communities. It was an uplifting dinner.
I went home with something new in mind. I decided that perhaps irrigating at night would be a good idea. I mean why not? If it’s taking so long, why not let it eat into my night instead of my day. When I feel I’m mostly finished, just put on a bag and go to bed.. empty the bag in the morning once it’s collected any of the slow moving detritus and replace it with a little cap and get on with my life. Irrigating can be a somewhat tiring process, and to have going off to bed as the prize instead of trying to start my day (already half gone), seemed very clever.
So when we got home, I set myself up in the bathroom.. I take my laptop with me so that I can watch netflix, or one pocket matches on youtube, or catch up on email. I got all the paraphernalia lined up. I weighed myself (always curious so see whether I gain or loose weight during irrigation.. think about that one for a moment). And I got started. I had eaten a pretty big dinner. A burger with fries to be exact. And I helped Hill finish off her mussels. I filled myself up with water.. a little over a liter and a half. Immediately I could feel a difference. I had a very full belly, and now I had very full lower bowel as well. My body was a little confused. Clearly this stuff was supposed to find its way out, but WHICH stuff? and which WAY? I had a moment of anxiety. I have felt nauseated before during irrigation, but never worried about it too much. This time I was a little worried. Suddenly a wave passed over my body and on its own it inhaled in the way it does when getting ready to expel SOMETHING. “oh christ,” I thought, “this is going to be bad.” And then violently and without much warning I SNEEEZED three or four times. What a relief. My poor body was so totally confused about what it was supposed to be doing. Meanwhile irrigation itself seemed to be progressing a little.. slowly.. a moment later I felt another wave of nausea and the need to expel. No problem, I thought.. Another sudden deep breath in, two violent sneezes, and before I knew what was happening, I was vomiting.. Now pause for a moment to imagine this conundrum. I was SITTING on the toilet. Attached to my belly butt I had an irrigation sleeve (essentially a tube of plastic to guide things from said orifice to the toilet), which was currently in USE. AND I had a laptop computer sitting on a chair directly in front of the toilet. I twisted myself into all sorts of contortions half standing to try to direct the vomit into the small area between my legs that gave access to the toilet. Trying to miss the computer.. and the floor.. and anything really that might be hard to clean up later.. All at the cost of puking all over MYSELF! After three or four waves of this I felt I was probably done. Exhausted, I sat back down. The front of me, particularly the.. um.. junk part of me, was covered with puke. The fronts and insides of my thighs, my chest and stomach.. etc. Now. It would be nice if I could have just jumped straight into the shower and cleaned myself off, but let’s keep in mind that I had an irrigation sleeve attached to my stomach that was currently in use!
At any rate. It was a clusterfuck. An hour or so later when I felt I was more or less done, I showered (finally) and put on a bag, and went to bed. A few times before I actually fell asleep, I had to get up and empty out the bag. Eventually though, completely worn out, I fell asleep. When I woke up in the morning, of course I had forgotten all about it. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and noticed that I had a bag attached to me that was full to bursting. In fact, busting its seems.. Leaking out the sides.. It was a small miracle that I hadn’t rolled over during the night on to my stomach! Can’t even imagine the mess that would have been!
So my day started with a sprint to the bathroom to remove and empty a bursting shit bag and to jump in the shower to clean shit off my elbow(?!). I then put on a nice small cap, feeling confident that the ordeal was over.. not to need repeating for another 36 hours. All’s well that ends well.
Recently I finished up and sold another run of pill flasks. The final. There will be no more. I’m in the packaging stage. I’m sending them in priority mail flat rate boxes. These are available at your local post office for free! It’s part of the service. A good deal, really.
So the other day I went to the post office to pick up supplies. I walked over to the kiosk with the flat rate boxes and envelopes, and pulled out every small flat rate box there was, and was on my way over to the inquiry window to explain that I had cleaned them out and in fact needed MORE, when I was met by a manager who had sprinted out of nowhere to meet me, saying, “OH, UH UH… You can’t do that!!! You can’t take all those.. If you take all those, someone has to come out and refill this thing!!!”
(That must happen, occasionally.. I was thinking.. It IS someone’s job, right? To keep the supplies topped up?).
“Well.. In fact, I need quite a lot more than this..” I said.
Her eyes widened.
“How many you need?.. You can’t just take all these boxes from here.. This is for people who are going to ship this stuff TODAY!” She was still stuck on the last part..
“Right.. Well. I’m trying to ship today. I’m going to need at least 50.”
“You’re going to ship 50? Today!!?”
“I’m really hoping to.. 65 or so, in fact.. but I already have a few boxes at home..” Here I was imagining that they’d be delighted that I was using their service.
She shook her head like I had just sworn in church, “mmmm mmmm… You can’t have 50… If you need that many you have to order them online, and we’ll bring them to your house. Then you don’t even have to come in here..”
“OK.. that’s good to know for next time.. But you see, I’m trying to ship these today. And here I am! Can’t I just pick them up?”
“mmm mmmm….” again. “You can have one package of them. More than that you have to order online.”
She turned to the young woman working in the inquiry window that I’d been headed to initially when she had caught me red handed, and said “Get him ONE package..” and she turned and disappeared back into the bowels of the place.
The young woman at the inquiry window disappeared as well, and came back with a nice shrink wrapped package of small flat rate boxes.
“How many are in a package?” I asked.
I hung my head.. “and that’s all I’m getting, huh? I can’t get another package?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head, “she said one package..” I could tell that what she meant was “Bitch is crazy! I can’t stand working under her.. but if she sees me give you two packages, I will LOSE my job.”
“How about if I leave and come back in ten minutes or so,” I joked.
She just closed her eyes and shook her head again. Not even a sign of a smile. She looked tired.
“thank you, dear.” I said, and turned to walk out. On the way out I passed the kiosk, and considered grabbing everything in it and running, but I had a feeling I was being watched.
My father’s most withering insult for people was “no imagination..” He would use it at times like this.
Many thanks to all of you who bought pill flasks. It is a huge relief to have them out of my hands and into yours. Please remember to give them a good wash out before you use them.. You’ll be doing the final step for me!
As soon as I’ve taken a proper inventory and built a page for them, Jerseys will be on sale. They are Ibex long sleeve full zip merino wool cycling jerseys. The perfect weight for fall cycling. (just in time for Psycho-cross season). The wool is grown and woven into fabric in New Zealand. The Jerseys are sewn here in these united states.. in my home state of Vermont, in fact. The embroidery as well. This is the first thing that I’m offering on here that I haven’t made myself. A bit of a break, I know, but a very very nice product, that I’m proud to be selling, and that I hope you’ll be proud to wear!
Thank you all for your continued support. Now that the pill flasks are done, I can go out to the shop and just play!! I’m going to carry these small flat rate boxes over to the post office to mail them (with some trepidation), and then head down to the shop. Tonight is dinner out with Glen, who was hanging out with Mario Batali last week (as you do..) who invited him to eat at Babbo tonight. So Glen, in turn, invited us to join in. Should be a pretty fun night!