I guess approaching ten o’clock on the left coast qualifies for late night. I’m in The Chalet, a restuarant and bakery, for the second time. Both times I’ve not been feeling particularly well, and both times I’ve been eating a meal inappropriate for the time I chose to eat it.
The first time through Newport, Suzy and I stopped here for breakfast on our way out of town, and I was sick from drinking way too much the night before at Rogue, and I ordered lunch instead of breakfast. Hey, I’m a wild man. You never know what I might do. This time around, I’m sick to my stomach from I don’t know what, and I felt that pancakes might help. So far, so good.
I’m not sure where this update is going to go. I’m pretty depressed right now. I’ve spent the majority of the day in bed, sick to my stomach. I don’t know what I might have done to deserve it, unless the new kitten gave it to me somehow. I found him so Saturday night, so there weren’t any vets open yesterday or today. Thinking back, I didn’t even let Scout sleep in the house the first several nights (but I made a nice space in the garage for him). I guess you probably just shouldn’t sleep with something you pick up on the street right away. Hmmph. Mom was right about that, too.
But the point is, I don’t feel good. And as I brought up in that weirdo, disconnected update from late last night, I’m starting to be concerned about what my financial situation is going to be like upon my return. It’s difficult to think positively about anything when you feel like you’re going to throw up, so everything just built on each other. Add to that the fact that I’m here in Newport and instead of being out playing with whales and seals, I’m stuck in the RV (hey, it’s a lovely RV and all, don’t get me wrong. It just that I can spit from one end of it to the other, not that I’d ever admit to actually trying it).
Oh, good, a big party just came in. I was afraid I was going to be the last customer in the place, and I hate that. It sucks, too, because, personally, I feel that if a place says they’re open until 10:00pm, and you get there at 9:59, you should be treated exactly the same as if you’d shown up three hours earlier. Instead, you usually get some punk kid rolling their eyes at you because you came in at 9:15 and now they’re going to have to refill the sugar at your table again. What, they can’t read their own hours of operation sign? Actually, with the state of public education, that’s about a 50/50 proposition these days, innit? This paragraph brought to you by the Liberatarian Party…
Jeez, that wasn’t even a paragraph, just sentences in the same geographical region. I’m clearly not up to this right now. I think I’ll head back to the RV and try again there.
I’m still not up to it. The pancakes are now just so much ballast in my lower abdomen. At least I’m not getting the turmoil that last night’s fish gave me. My nose is starting to stop up again.
Sigh. The kitten is asleep at the moment, no doubt resting up so he may bounce on my head when I try to sleep in a little while. He looks so peaceful now, it’s hard to believe in just hours he’ll be pure evil hellspawn.
Hey, the Dolphins won the other day. I had been on a web site, I think it was The Sporting News, while I was in Portland. They wanted people to write in with who they thought would have a breakout season. I wrote that Terrell Buckley would finally get the defense he likes to play in, and would have a bunch of interceptions. Hopefully, they got it posted and spelled my name right: T-Buck picked Peyton Manning twice on Sunday. I would have a smartass comment welcoming Mr. Number One Draft Pick to the NFL, but, hell, he gets paid the same either way. The Jets looked decent, right up until that last play, anyway. The Bills seem laughable, and I was too sick to see what the Pats did tonight. Go Denver. It would be great for Miami to lead the division outright all year, right from week one. Who’s rushing for New England, now that Curtis Martin is cashing a Jets paycheck? And Seattle over Philly, 38 to SQUAT? Hoying does not belong in the NFL, and Rhodes is looking like he might not, either.
Oh, well. There’s not much to say about football when I only got to see one game (Jets-Niners, mostly to see the Miami score updates, but it turned out to be a fun football game, if you didn’t care who won. I don’t know what anyone else thought, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that San Fran [particularly Steve Young and the defensive secondary] never really got going [although Young had, like, nine hundred yards passing. I’d hate to have seen it iffin he’d got hot], and the Jets were constantly pulling stuff out of their ass just to stay in it. In other words, I thought San Fran was better than the game indicated, and the Jets not as good. That could be my AFC East tunnel vision kicking in, though…)
Okay. I’m spent. So it was a crappy update, big deal, what do you want, your money back? Yeah, I know, I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and you can kiss my hairy white one.
Wow. That went from depressed to agressive awfully quick. Sorry. Upset tummy, you know.
And I’d also like to apologize for the imagery of “my hairy white one,” you’re right, there was simply no call for that.