I'm paranoid o' my appendix. 1 day it will kill me.
¿Are you thinking, well, have you had trouble with it in the past? & I tell you no, but appendices ne'er warn you, now do they. No, it's a ticking, ticking time bomb, ready to go off with aplomb & a song.
¿Why have you not gone to see a doctor 'bout it? Maybe they could have this deviant removed from the premises. That is a good question. ¡But you forget 1 thing! I am also paranoid o' health insurance. Look @ them combing o'er my claim with fine molars, ready to scratch out the infinitesimalest-print gotcha I tripped o'er & then, slappo, rejected, my friend in a tent; & then I owe literally billions & have to eat store-brand pot pies 'stead o' the Marie Calendar 1s. You also forget that I'm not rich @ all, but make below-market wages making websites, & therefore don't have billions to literally pay.
¿Do you constantly think o' this appendix? ¿How can you e'er concentrate on your Marie Calendar pot pie when you're constantly looking o'er your shoulder to keep yourself ready for when your appendix begins to strike?
No, that's the problem ‐‐ ¡I'll forget! & 1 day when I'm forgetting ‐‐ ¡BOOM SCOOB! It drives me mad all day every day, o' what happens if I forget.
¿What made you remember today?
Today is when the pain became.
¿For no reason? ¿Out o' the blue?
No, outside my house, hurrying back to where I left those stupid, shitty, pointless books I left in the bushes.
¿Why did you leave your books in the bushes?
I couldn't carry them. I was bringing home 3 bags & a backpack full o' whate'er books I thought I might e'er want in my life from the library @ a $ a book that I'll ne'er get round to reading & groceries when the handle on my biggest bag, Jay, ripped, which ripped my heart.
¿Just a handle ripping? ¿What big difference does that make? It sounds like you couldn't carry all that junk already & you should've managed your inventory better.
No, the handles make all the difference. When I put all my inventory in my backpack on my back & these thick bags on my shoulders, I can lift the entire earth like Atlas. I don't know the science, but some chemical compounds in either these handles or my shoulders lessens the weight. But without the handles, carrying the bulbous big bag by the bottom with my lower arms, the weight felt like it exponentialized.
¿So that's why you left the books in the bushes?
They were the most expendable, since I didn't go out to get them, anyway. I bent down & hid them in the nearest bushes ‐‐ so exhausted that I didn't e'en bother to keep my knees twisted so that nobody accidentally looked up my black denim skirt & saw my red checkered boxers & was disturbed, tho if they weren't disturbed but enjoyed what they saw or e'en was just intrigued I wasn't quite sure whether or not I would be disturbed or thrilled ‐‐ so that nobody would see them & perhaps throw them 'way.
Or steal them.
Nobody was going to steal these books: 2 o' them were unpublished proofs & 1 was a book by Jonathan Franzen. I made sure to keep the Tom Sawyer & Great Gatsby on the 1st trip ‐‐ nobody was getting their soggy hands on these. 'Haps if somebody looked closely @ them & noticed the Good News Bible I'd bought, which had the words I ♥ Green Day written in marker on the page edges, they would've realized how priceless this copy was. I can't believe that library were such fools to give such a rare edition for only a $, but they probably figured some ne'er-do-well would just steal it, anyway.
So I hid these in the bushes, hustled my way back with my lighter bags ‐‐ I want to emphasize "lighter", since they still made me feel as if I were going @ a turtle's pace, my whole body constantly puffing like a slowly deflating balloon ‐‐ & then dropped the bags in the kitchen for the nephew to put 'way, & then ran back with just my backpack, forgetting my sunglasses, which I regretted, as 'twas bright outside & hurt my eyes ‐‐ feeling free as a frisbee without all the weight round me ‐‐ & in my rush to make sure nobody stole my vital shitty books I felt a pain in my side begin to fester. I blame the soda I guzzled when I got home just before leaving ( I should add that I had gone 5 hours without drinking anything & was losing literally gallons o' sweat from my burdens, which contributed to the oppression o' carrying everything home in 1 go joe, which was worsened by the way I could barely breathe 'neath my face mask, my mouth smothered by my beard & moustache like thick blankets ). Those 2, Coke & my appendix, are always conspiring gainst me. They think I don't know, but I do.
Well, a'least when you got back from your 2nd trip you were able to finally relax.
You forget that the reason I went to the library in the 1st place was to print out fliers, which I now had to hang up all round the apartment complex ( & the other complex on the other side o' the gate 'hind my apartment, which had a convenient hole @ 1 point in the dirt for me to crawl under ).
¿Is that your job?
No. You forget that I'm a web developer, not a flier applicator. These were for my cat o' 15 years, who had mysteriously disappeared o'er the last week. As you can see, I'd been procrastinating putting up these fliers for far too long 'cause I've been so busy with my real job, which is not hanging up fliers. Still, hanging them up on Saturday wasn't the worst curse to work up my nerves, as that gave me 2 extra days before the office staff return from their days off & inevitably call me to tell me, sir, you need to take down these fliers; such advertisements are not allowed on our walls.
¿You hung them on people's walls?
The outside walls. The tape wouldn't stick to the tree. I'll have you know that some stranger rudely told me that my tapework was amateur minute shit & I asked them if they'd seen my cat & they told me they hadn't, despite my offering a $100 reward, so they clearly hadn't forgotten to be rich & didn't need the money; otherwise they would've found my cat by now 'stead o' wasting their time analyzing how crooked my tapework was.
¿Did the pain in your side e'er dissipate?
Yes, but it'll be back & 1 day it'll do me in ‐‐ & probably soon. I know it knows that I'm currently speaking with my lawyer ‐‐ in hushed tones in back alleyways, since my appendix's cameras are everywhere ‐‐ 'bout removing my appendix from my will ‐‐ or a'least only giving it the minimum $5,000 so it can't pull that cow 'bout me forgetting 'bout them, when I ne'er forget 'bout them, I ne'er forget.