You've Got to be Flexible

Life isn't always what you want it to be. It takes you to some pretty strange places sometimes, and quite unexpectedly. Take last night for instance. I was really looking forward to doing some overtime at work today. But then I get a call from my mother at about 8 P.M. telling me that my uncle's memorial service was this morning, and I'll be there, right? "Godd...yup, absolutely." "Did you forget?" "Yup, absolutely." So $38/hour goes out the window to attend the memorial for a beloved man (and I do mean that) whose survivors include a widow and an ex-widow, who happen to be sisters. I guess no one counted on THAT ever happening. See? And it made for an awkward service, with a widow whose ideas for the memorial differed greatly from those of his surviving children, who happen to be the widow's neices and nephews. See? Once upon a time we were all on the same page, and everyone knew their place. Today we stood by a small wet urn in the cold rain of late autumn, two camps huddled under wind-tossed umbrellas, as the fading notes of TAPS drifted off into the gray, alone.

And what about the crack of your daughter's boyfriend's ass? Did you ever think you'd end up THERE on a tired Friday night? I did, and quite by accident. His accident, actually. Last week he fell down his stairs, riding his coccyx all the way to the bottom. He gutted it out all through the week, but when he got to my house he felt that things were getting out of hand. Something was oozing out of his bottom. My wife being a nurse could not resist, even though we were snuggled deep into bed in our jammies, waiting for sleep to take us away. But life had other ideas, and life this night took us to the northern edge of the boy's ass crack. And a good thing it did, too. He was oozing pus from a small hole that had been bored into him as infectious ass pressure sought a fissure. Jennifer alternately squeezed the cheeks of his ass and then spread them, collecting great gobs of putrefaction on white cotton balls wedged into his crack. Over and over and over. Thought I was gonna puke, but she handled it as only a nurse can, with good humor, a tender touch, and some antibiotics we'd been holding in reserve since last year's trip to Aruba.

You'll be happy to know that the young man is doing better today. Sometimes life takes you to some good places too...