April 27, 2019

what to do with an extra elbow

This hasn't been the sort of week for writing.  Nothing noteworthy has happened, except for my having a birthday and a potential major breakthrough in therapy and some good writing discussions, but those are trifles.

Instead, my attention has been commandeered by a series of (mostly) minor physical ailments, small bits of resignation, and a newfound addiction to online jigsaw puzzles.

I can stop any time I want.  And might do, too, if I can't find the last piece of this stupid bridge, where the light only hits part of it and there's that little brown bit that's darker than the other ones.

The ailments are vexing as well.  I took the first bite of dinner a few nights ago and was suddenly stabbed straight through the intestines by an invisible katana, then spent a good number of hours writhing and rocking back and forth and making whimpering noises and saying "please stop" in a tiny voice.  I called in sick at three in the morning, as I was savoring a piece of dry toast and deciding that I don't spend nearly enough time being actively grateful, every single day of my life, that I'm not having some random and excruciatingly painful intestinal event.

I still don't know what that was about.

I also need to start walking again.  I've been more or less consistently wearing the dictatorial plastic bracelet of accountability lately.  In the midst of all of the mental noise, the alarm about weight gain, the noticing that I dump more, the quiet despair creeping up, it got through silver-bell-clear when I noticed that walking between the bathroom and my bed and lying down found me slightly out of breath again, the way it used to do.  It's a level of being out of shape that I never thought would hunt me down and find me again, but it's here, and my feelings about it are not tied up in the emotional dried spaghetti wad of the rest of my choices and failings.  I do not want this.  Fatigue and inertia and low energy are in my present.  There is walking in my future.  

Today, I seem to be experiencing an allergic reaction to oak pollen, which is impossible because I'm one of the twelve people in North Carolina who does not suffer from allergies in the spring.  If I'm sneezing, there are mice around.  I had to sit through Endgame with a head full of snot, but that worked out because everyone in there had Kleenex and it was normal to sniff continuously.  To make things worse, I sneezed and it blew out my left jaw joint, so now it's throbbing and I can't bite down on that side and can't eat much of anything, and this leaves me with allergies and a simultaneous terror of sneezing again.

Also, there's a sore spot on my right elbow, right at the tip, and I don't remember hitting it on anything and there isn't a visible bruise, so it's probably sprouting bone and I'm going to grow an extra elbow soon. 

I just asked P.J., "What would you do with an extra elbow?"

She replied, rather reasonably, "The fuck?"

"Like if you just sprouted an extra elbow off one of yours, on the same arm," I persevered.

She looked at her arm.  "Well, I guess it would depend on which direction it pointed.  Doesn't seem like it would do much good if it didn't go the other way."

"What if it had a hand on the end?" I asked.

"Well, that would make things a lot more interesting, wouldn't it?  Then I could say 'on the third hand, she wore a glove' and it would have meaning," she said.

"Okay, that's nice.  That's all I need."  I was already typing this.

P.J. just stared at me.  I think she had questions.

I'm not sure our marriage is all it could be, honestly, because that wasn't a very good answer to the question and I still have no idea what to do with this imminent extra right elbow, whether it's going to have a hand or whether I'm going to have to get one made for it, and whether it will portend a career change.  Will I have to learn to write with the new hand if I'm technically still right-handed?  

In anticipation of this development, I need to state firmly for the record that the circus can't have me, because clowns.


  1. Lille,
    Happy belated birthday! Also, I have no idea what online jigsaw puzzles are; however, if you can't drop the puzzle pieces and lose them like regular jigsaw puzzle pieces, the whole thing seems moot. Personally, I'd use an extra elbow to move people the hell out of my way, but only when necessary. Take pictures and put them on your blog. I want to see your extra elbow. Mona

    1. So this is one of those "pictures or it didn't happen" things ... huh. I really don't see why we're having trust issues. Why can't I just tell you all about it?

  2. Call it curiosity. Trust? Pffft...I wanna see it. Mona

  3. You're going to need the extra dexterity to learn how to sew yourself clothes that fit.