I have Charliqua Lovebisquit today.
Yeah, I have to go to FEGS WESTARE today at 9:00am. My drugs and an urn of Starbucks coffee kept me up till after two in the morning, only to wake up at 6:00am. I'm not tired, but I don't want to get ready to go. I want to crawl back into bed pull the covers over my head. But I make coffee instead and get on IRC for a few minutes to see who's up before dressing and packing my gear.
I zip down to WHEEEEE- CARE on the number 1 train and pass through the building so easily that it was as if I was walking through air. The girls at the reception desk were nice and cordial for a change. Every thing went smoothly...too smoothly. Soon, Charliqua comes out of a door and calls me over. We walk through a maze of office partitions to one no doubt for her. We sit in the cramped space and she begins typing furiously on her PC, both reading her notations on the screen and typing out more.
"Did you make your Nephology appointment?" She asks, turning from her computer screen. Yeah...I missed the first one, but got the second one before coming back here. "Very good Mr. Hobobob." I feel like I should be tossed a dog biscuit. She returns to her screen. Then she turned back to me..."Did you try to get your cardiology appointment moved up?" No. She shakes her head. "We've got to do that by today." She is hurried, rushed, panicky almost. I tell her about the Nephologist handing me back her paperwork. "Why did he give this back?? Oh we can't have that." She gets on the phone and calls the hospital. "Can we get the doctor to sign these forms? Can I have his appointment moved up?" She works on the nephologist. Gets shit all straightened out. Faxes the paperwork. Moves my appointment with him up. She is fucking efficient. She can't get in touch with the cardiologist so she can't move that appointment around. I laugh inside.
"You have to make your appoint- ments, Mr. Hobobob." Yeah, sure. I overhead that she only has four months with me to make a determination. She's rushing about to get some form of official paperwork. That's why she's full of anxious energy...or so I thought. She hands me paperwork: "Can you fill this out please?"
I look down at it. It's a survey. Her and the reception desk are on it. I smile. No wonder they are so nice. For surveys to really work, they need to be given without the knowledge of the people being surveyed. Now, they're on their best fucking behavior. Son's a bitches. I fill out the stupid survey and give them good marks. I should give them marks for last weeks behavior. Grim, dark, completely opposite of sunny and perky like today. I hand her the survey back, she hands me the paperwork. I'm glad to get out of there.
But my day is not over yet. I take a bunch of trains across town to the library. I have to confess to the librarians there that I lost a library book. You remember that William Troy fella who found the fucking book and contacted me on Facebook? High technology got us together and I asked him to do me the smallest favor, which was drop the fucking book in a nearby library, or the mailbox. BUT NO. This motherfucker drops off the face of the Earth. No longer contacting me, no longer answering my emails, and not returning the book. Ain't that some shit?? Motherfucker probably thought that I was going to give him a reward or something. I'm glad that bastid showed his true fucking colors. I wouldn't give him shit. I'd rather give the library it's due for the book...which is fucking $23.00. This cocksucker....oh, wait. I love cocksuckers. This motherfucker holds onto the book. I wonder how old this bozo is. He's probably a kid, where $20.00 would seem like a kings ransom. Wait...to ME $20.00 is a king's ransom. Well, he may not be a kid, but he IS a fuck.
Yeah, I'm mad. So mad that I take my bad attitude to group. Yeah, I have to go to group because Dr. D is threatening to cut me from the group for attendance. I can't be having that shit. So I showed up today. I best to get on the stick, because, as I said before, this group is the lynchpin of the entire psychoanalyst thing. Remove it, and you've got collasping legos. I'm fucked. So today I showed up and sat in the Bozo Lounge and we talked about what stresses us out. I let them know...people. Lot's of people. Dr. D. believes in exposure therapy. I keep the fact that I do the SHOUT OUT from him. I have my own exposure therapy. I'm working on it.
The fire alarm goes off. It's a fire drill. Wha? Yeah, we have to empty out the conference room. And guess what? Crowd into the evacuation stairwell....fuck that. I stayed on the floor. It's a goddamned drill, I'm not going to get burned up. Me and a bunch of physically challenged people stayed on the top landing and waited out the drill. I was the first one back in the conference room. Dr. D. was disappointed that I didn't jump into the crowds. I get enough of that on the Way.
I didn't tell him that my idea of a good motherfucking time is locking the door to my room and hanging out on the Internet. Free of the world, free of the crowds. I'm edging into being a Shut In I can see. Maybe the SHOUT OUT is good for me. Maybe it gets me out of the house and in front of people. People that I've grown to appreciate and love.
Let me think about that. I love being in that little room though....
HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2009/04/foolish-touching-of-nothing.html
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