Bad Memory and Black Dog

I keep a notepad on my desk to write myself reminders. On it, is a note in my handwriting that says, “Have you suffered from an ingrown toenail?”

About a week ago, I had lunch with a friend of mine. My friend wanted to know if I ever called people and forgot about it. She had just done that to her sister, and called her twice. Her sister made a big deal out of the duplicate messages on her answering machine. I told her I did the opposite. I thought I called people when I didn’t. Besides, I told my friend, her sister was a be-yotch ho (and a Yankee). When in a pinch, resort to name calling. It shows maturity and how much you really care.

I think this is what happened last night but I’m not real sure. I have one of those old folks’ pillboxes. It has the days of the week divided like Sunday morning and Sunday evening, and each slot is filled with an allotment of anti-seizure drugs. So, last night I looked in the box, and Sunday nights’ drugs were gone but Saturday nights’ drugs were there. I decide to eat Saturday nights’ drugs. I’m not sure why. I think the speculation at the time was I must have accidentally eaten Sunday nights’ drugs on Saturday? And I should just eat the ones that weren’t eaten.

During the night I realized my mistake only because I don’t sleep all night. I never have. But last night, I was out, like a light, a smashed 60 watt bulb in the city dump. I must have eaten Sunday nights’ drugs and gone back for Saturday nights’ drugs. This morning I was on tilt. I wanted to stand up straight, but it wasn’t happening, or at least it felt like it wasn’t happening. Thankfully around 4pm, Hubby decided he needed a nap and I followed suit. Things seem to be fine now. I tried to look up on the internet the overdose instruction for my anti-seizure drug, but it seemed like the sites all said, “Hey don’t worry about it because the overdose symptoms are the same as the side effects.” I don’t know. In the end the only viable solution was to fall face forward on the sofa and let the Dachshund perch on my back for a while. All better now, except for that little note about the “ingrown toenail.” Not sure when or why that happened.
So, here’s a picture of Mr. Grand Procrastinator’s yard yesterday. This is the back fence, not the fence on our side. I spoke with the renter, whom I like, who rents the house from Mr. GP. She said, “There’s a dog, a black dog, who is coming up to my back door at night and barking.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s the neighbor’s dog. He lives behind us.”

“I didn’t know he had a dog,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I’ve never seen him before,” she said.

“You had a fence before,” I said. “He was on the other side. Now you have nothing.”

“Oh. But why is he coming in my yard?” she asked.

After that, I said fence about 22 times. Then she said fence about 7 times. Finally I said, “I’m thinking about calling codes on the jack ass.” (Meaning Mr. GP, of course)

“Oh please don’t,” she said. “He’ll never get this finished.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her it’s finished now, and the black dog would be forever barking at her kitchen door until she let it in. When the renter first met my two dogs. She said, “Go away. I am not your friend.” I had visions of the black dog cracking her in the near future and her phoning codes instead of me.


8 Responses to “Bad Memory and Black Dog”

  1. Ingrown toenail. Knock on wood, I never had one. My younger brother had two or three. Bad memories for him. He hated the shot into the big toe he got each time it had to be cut out.

    That’s a nice start of a fence. It will be interesting to see if it is ever finished.

  2. Ohhhh, a shot in the toe. I didn’t know that’s what they did. That makes me hurt thinking about it.

    Mr. GP worked on the fence some more actually yesterday but it is all such a mess. He’s one of those neighbors you can do without.

  3. I’ve wondered about the instruction that you should cut toenails straight across to avoid getting ingrown nails, if I cut my toenails straight across I land up with two ends so sharp I could rip my sheets to shreds or injure significant other with toenail gashes on his legs. I’ve always rounded my nails, and I’ve never had an ingrown toenail. Knock on wood!

    As for open ended notes, I always jot down phone numbers on a note pad, but forget to put a name with it. Two or three days down the line I look at the note and for the life of me I can’t figure out who the phone number belongs to. I know I should call the number and say “Hi, how are you? That’s good, I’m fine too. [Long pause] Who the hell am I speaking with?” Does that make me sound old or stupid, or both?

    • Hey, I do the same with my toenails – curved. Straight across simply means daggers.

      Okay, I did laugh and laugh out loud about the phone numbers. BUt why am I laughing. I shouldn’t be. I’m 10 times worse. I’m overdosing on drugs.

  4. Oh, oh, oh! I have a black dog story! My old neighbor in Phoenix, she was tiny (height wise) and pudgy (width wise), anyhooo, one day she was working in her flower beds, when her neighbor called in a frenzy screaming at her to stay inside the house because there was a enormous ugly black dog in her front yard! Eva was bent over on the phone, and realizing was in mortal danger, she stood up quickly to see where the huge ugly black dog was, at that moment the neighbor said “never mind” it was your ass I was looking at, I though it was a huge ugly black dog!

  5. OMG! I am laughing hard but I’m surprised the neighbor said that to the black dog mistaken buttocks. I mean it was kind of insulting…albeit hilarious. Still laughing. I like this part, “Never mind. It’s your ass I’m looking at.” har har

    • I think Mexican humor is a tad on the dark side. My friend, the lady working in her flower garden, was talking to another neighbor, Rosa, about the diet her doctor put her on because of her high cholesterol, at one point she said ‘Yeah, I’ve been dieting for two weeks and I think my stomach’s gone down.” From the back room Rosa’s husband yelled “Yeah, it’s down to your knees!” See what I mean, Mexicans like sarcastic, dark, insulting kind of humor. 🙂

      • You’re killing me today. That is hilarious too. I’m forever saying that to Hubby – “I think my stomach’s gone down.” I hope he doesn’t read the comments. He’ll pick up on his next line.

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