When You Give a Mouse a Cookie

While I’ve been home climbing the walls – metaphorically, that is, because I am restricted from exercise and heavy lifting – I started writing again and am revisiting old memories. I looked up my first university and, of course it has changed since 1989 but, damn. Since video tours are a thing now, I watched the one of my freshman dorm which back then was kind of ancient with outdated walls and floors and shared hall bathroom on every floor. Today it has an ELEVATOR. And the rooms are bright and clean and you’d never know that a fire swept through the third floor over winter break in 1987-88 that gutted the room of origin, blackened walls in the hallway, and delayed our return to campus.

This led me down the rabbit hole trying to nail down details of a house there, which led me to find out that only two of the five fraternities I knew there remain. Now I want to know what happened to them. Well, I knew about one of them because their reputation preceded them and, though I dated one of them for a year who was definitely one of the good guys, some of it was criminal. I tried googling, what happened to..? And, while I didn’t find any answers, this led me to a site called Power Library which featured photos from the era of 1980-89 at the college. The photos I saw all predated my arrival.

Anyway, seeing my sorority featured there landed me on Facebook and then scrolling to a high school friend’s post of a woman attempting to roll out dough on a cutting board and the board flips up and covers her in flour which made me burst out laughing… which I am NOT supposed to do because it activates too many mouth and cheek muscles. I messaged her about something unrelated and she said, “whatever you do, don’t Google Alabama hot pocket” followed by “Just please don’t do it!” Which really means she wants me to and I told her I’m not doing it because knowing her, it’s going to bust me up and I can’t afford to blow a suture.

She is the best for all kinds of dirty and dark humor and I love her for it. However, she followed up with, “DON’T DO IT,” and then “You did it didn’t you?” Which I DID NOT. And then I did. And I am telling you RIGHT NOW it is NOT FUNNY and you do NOT want to know what that is.

I needed an accurate description of a house I once knew, and that took me to all these realty sites where the best I could get was a front picture and an address. You know what’s cool about Google Maps? The arrows on the roads that you can click and virtually travel up the street. Which is when I realized that there’s a row of houses, including one beloved fraternity house, that are …gone. Which brings me full circle to, what happened to those fraternities? And now I have to message one of the guys to find out. Stay tuned.

So I’m home recovering from oral surgery – a gingival skin graft, upper and lower – and am restricted to soft/liquid foods, no exercise, and no heavy lifting for TWO WEEKS. This is excellent news for my waistline but not for the brain. I’m on day 5 and I’m going out of my mind. I have watched more garbage programming than a raccoon surveilling a trash can. I have, however, worked on some crafty stuff (which is destined for the dump one day) and – as you can see – attempted to participate in Camp Nanowrimo. This means I’m actively writing in the snowball’s chance in the Northeast of producing something worthy of holding my interest for more than a few days.

I have no idea where it’s going but it’s going to need a lot of tweaking and name changing, cause don’t you need to change names so nobody knows who they really are even though if THEY knew about it THEY’D know it was them I was writing about? In which case I probably should change a certain man’s name to something other than Dick. I’ll have to choose something a little more vanilla. Narcissistic sociopathic baby man is just too long to type out a thousand times.

SO. Yesterday I asked Todd, before he left for work, to pump up my pool lounger so I would be inspired to go float and not be inside watching programs featuring people eating all the stuff I cannot eat. The power of suggestion, ya’ll, is deadly. I even forgot, for damn near 24 hours, that I’m not supposed to drink through a straw. It sucks being over 50 and mindless, especially when you have to remember to take all your meds and timely, and THEN remember to give the dog HER meds too, and for the love of God do not mix up the two. (And before you say it’s impossible because vet meds are in blue vials, let me tell you I almost popped that pill myself while I was talking to Todd.)

Bee had her teeth cleaned and scaled the day after my procedure and so she, too, is on antibiotics. But SHE isn’t restricted from eating and neither is Todd, who enjoys the odd piece of hard candy and a bag of potato chips. Potato chips! The nerve of him. And because I’m just crazy enough I actually contemplated licking a potato chip to get it out of my system. Betcha ya’ll never thought of being sick of ice cream, didya?

Anyway, the pool float. I had also asked Todd about the weather for the day because why should I have to look it up myself? And he said sunny and hot. But HE LIED. Well, okay, he didn’t lie but apparently was unaware of the severe thunderstorm warning for 3 p.m. and therefore neither did I when I finally pulled on my swimsuit and sunscreen a little after 2:00 and noticed the black clouds rolling in like an alien spaceship. I looked it up then and discovered that I didn’t want to be floating in a pool when buckets of rain and possible hail fell with 40mph wind gusts.

And that’s why you don’t ever put off anything you want to do.

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