Contemplating My Last Meal

Tonight it’s back to the sleep lab, this time to calibrate the C-PAP.  I’m at the Franklinton library right now, since Steph is teaching three piano lessons in a row, the first one starting at 4:30, before my arrival.  Susie and I ventured out into the dusk as the temperatures fell and everything began to get wet and slippery.  (The Weather Channel E-mailed me a severe weather alert for tonight, and I nearly slipped when I stepped outside work this afternoon.  The sidewalk is that glossy faux marble that allows very little traction when wet and none when there’s ice.)

I have to be at the sleep lab at 8:30 tonight, and Steph’s last lesson wraps up at 7.  So, Susie and I are here, and soon after I wrap this up I’m phoning in take-out from Crazy Chicken, a new restaurant on E. Rich Street which left its flyer and menu on our fence last weekend.  (That does not always mean that they deliver to our area, though.)  I can’t have any caffeine, so I plan to take the two-litre to work tomorrow, but I’ll at least get some food in my stomach before I have to report to be wired up and sleep before an audience.

This week at work has been tiresome.  There are fewer doctors’ appointments, since this is December and the end of the year.  The added frustration is that our office is moving from the fifth to the 10th floor of the William Green Building next week, since the Bureau of Workers’ Compensation wants to gobble up even more of the 30 floors of office space in the building.  One section has already gone up, and I visited it yesterday to bum boxes for the move.  I cannot understand how they’re managing to get any work done amidst the paint fumes, the sounds of power tools, the blowers, and all the other interruptions as the work crews set up the new work area.  (I saw where I will be working.  They haven’t even begun to work on it yet.  There’s just a jumble of pod partitions, power tool cords, sawhorses, dropcloths, and stray tools and furniture dumped in that area right now.)

I’ll be taking War of the Worlds: New Millenium with me to the hospital.  I’m at p. 183 and we have yet to see the Martians face to face, although they have landed and wreaked havoc throughout the U.S. and much of the world.  Douglas Niles, the author, is quite fond of reeling off the names of different kinds of military hardware, but he expects his readers to right away know what these machines are and what they’re capable of doing.  That’s why I could never get into the Tom Clancy novels–you needed a degree in engineering and military science to follow the action.

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