The orange calling the kettle black
There's a commercial out there for
shit, I don't even know. But you'll see why:
There's a commercial out there that shows an amorphous, kid-like being running through a house, garbage, clothes and crap falling off of him left and right, on the stairs, etc.
"Do you have a clutter monster in your home?" asks the ad while panning to the annoyed mother.
I would have wiped the smirk off of Ainsley's face if I hadn't just then dumped a bag of crumbs all over my shorts.
~~~
I saw another doctor again up at Walter Reed to again discuss my back. My last MRI shows a bulge (whoa!) that's touching a nerve root (you don't say!). I told the doc I'm doing okay, just occasional spine stiffness and tingling in my foot. He said I should be using my hot tub every day (though my wife didn't believe he said that), stretching every day, and that it was pretty much up to me what kind of treatment would be next (surgery, steroid injection, meds, physical therapy). I told him it really wasn't -- I'd be happy to maintain the status quo, but there are higher ups who want to know why I'm not running and doing sit-ups and no one seems to want to put a permanent waiver in my record. So, for gas and grins I had him put in a consult for physical therapy back down at Ft. Belvoir, just to get someone's latest opinion on the best way to manipulate my back and take pressure off the discs. Meanwhile, I have the 'pathology' to prove this is a long-term issue and that I'm aggressively combating it, per my doctor, which should satisfy anyone looking at my records in the short term. And I will sit in 104 degree water whenever I get the chance.
~~~
Tonight the son of Ainsley's late de facto grandfather stopped by with his wife and half his dogs as a halfway point between North Carolina and New York. I'd never met him, and it'd been over 15 years for Ainsley. Nice fellow, nice wife who looked an awful lot like Jill Clayburgh (and a vegetarian, so there's at least two of them out there), really nice dog "Little Bear" who tolerated with aplomb a screechy Ryan, overly sniffy Bailey & Dover, Prick On Paws Griffin (who growled at him every chance he had so he stayed outside most of the time), and violent sabre-tooth-tiger-esque stalker kitty Jeremy.
I grilled some chicken, but not before the igniter broke off my grill. Rather than take the time to fix it, I just grabbed the long matches and told Ainsley I was improvising.
This sort of juxtaposition tends to make Ainlsey worry.
I retain my eyebrows.
shit, I don't even know. But you'll see why:
There's a commercial out there that shows an amorphous, kid-like being running through a house, garbage, clothes and crap falling off of him left and right, on the stairs, etc.
"Do you have a clutter monster in your home?" asks the ad while panning to the annoyed mother.
I would have wiped the smirk off of Ainsley's face if I hadn't just then dumped a bag of crumbs all over my shorts.
~~~
I saw another doctor again up at Walter Reed to again discuss my back. My last MRI shows a bulge (whoa!) that's touching a nerve root (you don't say!). I told the doc I'm doing okay, just occasional spine stiffness and tingling in my foot. He said I should be using my hot tub every day (though my wife didn't believe he said that), stretching every day, and that it was pretty much up to me what kind of treatment would be next (surgery, steroid injection, meds, physical therapy). I told him it really wasn't -- I'd be happy to maintain the status quo, but there are higher ups who want to know why I'm not running and doing sit-ups and no one seems to want to put a permanent waiver in my record. So, for gas and grins I had him put in a consult for physical therapy back down at Ft. Belvoir, just to get someone's latest opinion on the best way to manipulate my back and take pressure off the discs. Meanwhile, I have the 'pathology' to prove this is a long-term issue and that I'm aggressively combating it, per my doctor, which should satisfy anyone looking at my records in the short term. And I will sit in 104 degree water whenever I get the chance.
~~~
Tonight the son of Ainsley's late de facto grandfather stopped by with his wife and half his dogs as a halfway point between North Carolina and New York. I'd never met him, and it'd been over 15 years for Ainsley. Nice fellow, nice wife who looked an awful lot like Jill Clayburgh (and a vegetarian, so there's at least two of them out there), really nice dog "Little Bear" who tolerated with aplomb a screechy Ryan, overly sniffy Bailey & Dover, Prick On Paws Griffin (who growled at him every chance he had so he stayed outside most of the time), and violent sabre-tooth-tiger-esque stalker kitty Jeremy.
I grilled some chicken, but not before the igniter broke off my grill. Rather than take the time to fix it, I just grabbed the long matches and told Ainsley I was improvising.
This sort of juxtaposition tends to make Ainlsey worry.
I retain my eyebrows.
posted by Dan at 8:42 PM
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