That title should be all caps, otherwise it looks as if it was a fizzle. So KABOOM. The medicine prescribed for my stubborn UTI starts with NITRO. As I emailed LZP on this his birthday, I believe my doctor may be planning on blowing up my bladder. I just took the first pill, so if there are side effects, nighttime is a better time to deal with it. With a name like this one, the side effects may be a real blast. HO! There’s a side effect right there: ridiculously forced puns. Or do I do that anyway? Side effect #2: memory loss.

I have been cheerful today, angry, hurried, frustrated and pissed off. That is not a Robert Grismore approved phrase, but there it is – the degree of my anger and frustration is PISSED OFF. Perhaps I am frustrated because I cannot just hit people with pieces of firewood and get away with it.

Today is Trash Stomping Day. Has anyone said anything about it? No. They take these stomping feet for granted. I just realized I’ve kind of been exploding all over and now, now my bladder is on the bomb squad list. It has to be kismet.

Rats!!! I still have a UTI and am now waiting for a prescription to be called in.  Nothing like peeing in a cup and putting it in a double-doored cubby in a wall. I imagine the staff use that cubby for little pranks when the office is closed.  Or maybe they are dull people and the little cubby just sits there,  unfulfilled  as a prop in childish trick humor.

Summer is talking about her paper on The Brave New World. Ah, been there, done that.

I’m up at three this morning; I probably will go back down in a little while. Right now, I’m afraid I might dream about the refrigerator being out in the yard, with pieces falling off of it. It was a struggle waking up from that dream to start with and I’m taking a breather.

Oh, my gosh, I just remembered another aspect of this dream. When I came running into the house to get help to bring the refrigerator in, I discovered the washer had shaken all its outer walls off and and  was steaming. I didn’t need to recall that, especially with people being okay with it. I mean, you’re standing there in amazement, yelling, “The washer has no walls!” and oh, hum, here comes someone with a load of clothes.

I need to think of something else before, alas, what more memories of dreams may come?

Great, I have Thinker’s Block. But now, fortunately, a picture of the block of stone of The Thinker has popped into my mind. My mind may take some strange paths but right now, this is  better than the Tennessee Williams appliance stuff.

Ah, but there’s not too much you can think about The Thinker at this hour. I need something more engrossing; perhaps I should read a little . . .