My herpetic knee

I find my biannual physical exams amusing. Yes, I go twice a year, because 11 years ago I had an adventure with malignant melanoma, and my GP likes to measure my moles regularly.

I find the mole-measuring very amusing. There's a mole on my stomach that he was measuring today, and he said "It might be a bit wider than last year, but I can actually stretch it out if I want to, so I'm not sure", and he started pulling at my skin with his fingertips pushed into my stomach above and below the mole. He was laughing and claiming the mole looked like a bird, or a shark, or a lemon, depending on how he stretched or scrunched it. I suggested the mole might look wider because I'd put on 6 pounds over the winter. We agreed that it was actually the same size as before.

I've been going to the same GP since I was 13. He did my first high school athletics physical before I joined the track team. Now he's doing my physical a year after foot injuries ended my running career. He's great, but some of his assistants are morons. Today I groaned when he let an assitant take my blood sample. I'd had her before, and she'd stuck me five times before finally finding a vein. My veins stand out like ropes, just like the veins on all southern PA backwater rednecks. This time she hit the vein first try, but didn't push in far enough, so the needle was in the outside of my vein. She couldn't figure out what was wrong and was manipulating this fat needle stuck in my arm when the glass collection vial fell off onto the floor. She reacted trying to catch it and in doing so pushed the needle far enough in to draw blood. A nice crimson jet resulted, and a huge mess. I've never in my entire life laughed at my own spurting blood, but today I couldn't help it. Then, after cleaning up and collecting three vials she started sticking adhesive things all over my chest and arms for an EKG. "Uh, you might want to shave me before putting those on," I suggested. I'm harrier than a '70s porn star. "It's ok," she said. "These things won't pull out hair." She clipped the machine to my adhesive things, did the reading, and promptly yanked the adhesives off, removing huge patches of hair and causing me to yelp. The tentacles on the EKG reader looked like wilted Chia pets, and I looked like I'd been attacked by a Humboldt squid. I think she was angry I laughed at her.

My BP was 106 over 65 at the beginning of the appointment--I wonder what it was when I left?

Doc looked me over and found a tiny clear bump on my knee. He asked me about it, and I told him I get them occasionally on my knee and they go away. "I think you've got herpes," he said. "On my knee?" I asked. "Sure," he replied. "You can get herpes anywhere. I'd advise you keep your knee away from your wife." "You're not serious," I said, but he was, and he was vigorously washing his hands. "These bumps don't ever burst and scab over," I told him. "I doubt they are herpetic." "You're probably right," he said, "but keep your knee away from your wife's private areas."

How the fuck could I have gotten a herpetic knee? I simply can't imagine--and I have a pretty perverse imagination. Who, I wonder, gave me herpetic knee? Perhaps I'll phone up old flames and demand to know if they gave me herpetic knee. Will there be a new drug for herpetic knee along the lines of yellow toenail drugs and restless leg medications? "Ow, Doc, my restless herpetic knee!"

My wife will be horribly disappointed that I can no longer knee her in the groin without protection.

Nothing doing

Sorry, no books or movies to blog about; until we get settled at the new place this 'blog will continue suffering its current half-assed hiatus. For a third weekend in a row I read nothing, and didn’t watch a film on DVD. I only caught half of half of a game of NCAA (and routed for a team I loathe—Georgetown—because they were playing a team I loathe even more—UNC). Normally I’m attached to the television during March Madness, but this year I’m entirely out of the loop. We did manage one episode of Deadwood, which remains satisfyingly ambitious, almost operatically so.

We also went to SCAN and dumped a butt load of cash on overpriced trendy furniture we’ll surely regret buying in a couple years. And to make things worse we bought said furniture in very vivid colors. God help us. We followed this up with bank-breaking trips to Home Depot and IKEA. Most of the weekend was spent shopping or assembling IKEA CD shelves.* I only say this because I spent two hours alphabetizing classical stuff last night, but I have too many goddamn CDs. Can't wait to unpack the frackin' books--perhaps I'll just roll boxes down to Normal's instead of opening them.

We also found an early ‘50s dining set we liked in a Fell’s Point antique shop, and a barrister’s bookcase and a library table to boot. We haven’t bought them yet, but are heavily considering renting a truck and going back tonight.

All that money we made selling the Towson house is going fast!

This year’s tax refund was less than half what we got last year. WTF? Nothing really changed on our end. We both made about 10% more money, but it’s not like we jumped up a bracket or anything. Jesus.

Saturday we bowled ten pins for charity. I hadn’t bowled in ages, and my consistency suffers. First game I bowled a 118, the second was a more respectable 183. Cha wants to join a league, as if we have time to do anything else right now.

Thanks to those of you who sponsored us. Pay us when you see us next.

*It only seems that way. We also spent a lot of time in the Park, and had a nice afternoon with Julio and Yo! Adrienne touring around downtown on a gorgeous day. You gotta take advantage of city life.

The First Supper

We've been in the new house since Thursday. It's funny how everything takes on an odd tone akin to nostalgia, as though we're borrowing perspective from the future and using it up now. Every 'first' is remarked, discussed, and associated with warm feelings. Awww, we're having our first meal in the new kitchen, or I just watched my first DVD in the new house*, or This insurance bill is our first piece of mail here, or Awwww, I just pinched my first loaf on Madison Ave. Such bullshit! The first meal in our new kitchen was great, I loved it, and it felt special to sit down with my wife and talk and eat and look around. But shouldn't every meal be like that? Does mere novelty explain that heightened emotional valuation? I don't know the answer, but I even had one of these awwww moments when I saw my first rat scamper across the parking pad.

What the fuck difference does it make if it's the first time we do something in the new house? The Buddhists are onto something with that 'living in the moment' stuff. Taking a bath in the whirlpool tub the first time is nice, but it should always be nice. I know for a fact however that in two years it'll be ho-hum, another bath in the whirlpool tub, whooopedy-do.

I suppose I can blame the exhausting moving process in part for making things feel so special right now. We've been living in chaos for months, and it's going to take another month to get settled in. Yesterday we bought some curtains and hung them for the first time in our new house(awww). Our first expedition to Ikea** to furnish the new place(awww). But the moved-in chaos is much better than the pre-move chaos as it doesn't have the actual moving chaos ahead of it.

I'm sore as hell after five straight days of heavy lifting. I took my first two Tylenol at the house Thursday, and have achieved my first 10 since. My hips, knees, and feet ache like a rotted tooth.

*It was David Cronenberg's ExistenZ. My own disassociation with reality following several days of heavy lifting and weeks of unsurety made this selection appropriate. That and the fact it was the DVD on top of the box I opened after setting up the TV room.

**I loathe the local Ikea. The customers there are the rudest, most hateful bunch of schmucks anywhere on the planet, with absolutely minimal regard for other human beings. If a meteor crashed into the damn building on a Sunday afternoon the planet Earth would benefit dramatically.***

***I would include my own loss as a Sunday Ikea shopper as also beneficial to Earth.****

****My boss/editor always corrects me when I put the definite article in front of Earth, as in "The Earth." She says "Earth is the planet, the earth is dirt." I argued that Earth often takes the definite article, and she said I was looney. The curriculum we were arguing over was written by me***** for a book called Voyage to the Center of THE EARTH, however, so I won the argument.

*****She also hates the passive voice, but then again the passive voice is also hated by me.

Right Neighborly of Ya

Cha received this email from D., the last tolerable resident in the house next door to us in Towson:

I was in the Towson area over the weekend and noticed the "For Sale" sign outside your house. It just made me think of you guys and I just wanted to write a quick email to you.

I miss my York Road house, more the time I was living then my time as landlord. I enjoyed having you guys as my neighbors. I still have that picture up of you and I as Captain America and Wonder Woman. I enjoyed that house greatly, as well as the area. I wished I still had the house and probably wouldn't have sold it if I had owned it alone. I am living downtown now though and love it there. Lots of action.

Anyway, just wanted to drop a quick note and say hi to you and Geoff.

D

PS - I hope the neighbors (my renters and/or current) aren't what are driving you to sell.

Emphasis mine. It was his renters two years ago who drove us into the housing search, and the new owner/renters who drove us to sell.

Moving

Can any hell be more horrible than now and real? -James Douglas Morrison, Lament


I've been sorely neglecting this space for weeks now, and the traffic numbers reflect that fact. I apologize. My mind is elsewhere.

I live in a shambles of crates and boxes. There's no heat in our house. The frat boys are partying hard core in our neighborhood, gleefully anticipating our departure. Insurance companies need this, banks need that, mortgage providers want those, real estate agents want these. Inspections, utility services, address changes occupy my time. Soon I'll be throwing a car purchase into the mix, with the requisite trips to the MVA and further confrontations with insurance company types.

The bureaucracies are nearly sated, leaving the actual physical move, which is always unpleasant, but which will be accomplished by Saturday next week. Then, the purchase of rugs and curtains and curtain rods and new furnishings and the installation and hanging and positioning of such things.

Look for a housewarming party in May. I'll be wearing more than one lampshade that day.

Happy Valentine's Day

Everything is closed today because of the ice/sleet/freezing rain/snow storm: the government, the local retailers, the schools and universities, the courthouses are all shut down.

And here I am at work because we're not closed. It's no big deal because I only walk three blocks, but I had to walk in the streets because the sidewalks are buried under plowed snow which has frozen solid. The streets are a soupy mess of chemical slush with icy patches and salty gloop everywhere. Everybody else in my department is using personal time or working from home; I don't have any personal time to spare because I'm new and need to save what I have for moving in two weeks. And because the house is packed up I can't really get anything done at home. Particularly given it's Valentine's Day and the Mrs. is off.

I wonder if my 'guaranteed delivery' Valentine's package will make it today? When it doesn't show up I wonder if they'll refund my hefty shipping fee? Ha!