Day 3. Chicken Salad.

April 16, 2011

Today I felt a little better and I felt a little ambitious and so I went out there and I did some stuff and I drove a little bit. I didn’t actually accomplish anything, or remember the whole thing, and I required a three-hour nap when I got home. But boy-howdy, we did stuff today. I’ll make a note tomorrow to check the undercarriage of my car for a dead pedestrian.

In a Prius, the pedestrian has at least even odds. This is not a Prius.

I did manage to make one hell of a chicken-salad sandwich today; to wit: pulled chicken (from one of those rotisserie chickens you can get at just about any grocery store now), mayonnaise, sour cream, relish,  salt, pepper, dill seasoning, grapes (cut in half), walnuts, served on grilled bread with lettuce, apple slices and melted swiss. Dill sprigs are optional but now I’m just showing off. Not necessarily health food, but a lot better than main-lining Kit-Kats.

The team of my choice had an important event today, but if I revealed who and what I would significantly narrow down my potential biographical particulars. So I’ll just have to say that a sporting thing happpened today and it went pretty well. Not as good as a win, it’s the off-season, but it was pretty good. You can tell my committment to my anonymity is less than resolute. The truth is that it may not matter to me as I continue to write, but since it’s impossible to put that toothpaste back in the tube, I will be circumspect in handling the subject. For now.

I hope that once I get through detox there will be a little more cohesion to my narrative. There’s a lot of prologue to my story (beyond my clever post titles from a few days back), and a lot a of texture to my personality. The past few days it’s all I can do to write something down. I’ll crank up the narrative in the next few days.

Oh, today’s drugs: phenbobarbitol, 60 mg, three times a day; clonidine, .1 mg, three times a day; visteril, 25 mg; three times a day. Yummy.

     

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