There are good things and bad things about having a 24 hour grocery store. The good is obvious. The bad is a little more subtle.
The bad can go something like this:
You’re walking through the store at 11 pm on a Friday looking for milk. On the radio you hear Arthur’s Theme. And you start humming along in your brain.
“When you get caught between the moon and New York City…”
Suddenly you realize, that’s not Christopher Cross! Someone’s done a cover of Arthur’s Theme! Is that OK? I don’t know. Who might it be?
As you’re wondering this it turns out to be a commercial for BC Lotto’s Keno.
I defy any one of you to come up with a single reason why this might make a good combination. We don’t live anywhere near New York City. And as far as I remember, it’s not a song about winning an odd little bingo-like lottery game that you can play every five minutes at your local convenience store.
Sometimes it can be very tempting to just say to your pregnant wife on a Saturday morning, “Gee, ehm, sorry; we’re all out of milk.”
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For a couple of months now, I’ve had a very odd little lump on my right wrist. This lump, in addition to freaking me out just some, has also made my wrist and arm tire easily.
A bad thing for a person who needs to type or play an organ all day.
Twelve days ago I went to see our doctor, who told me that I had nothing to worry about: it was just a ganglion. Usually asymptomatic, she didn’t even want to do anything about it. But with my suspicion that it was responsible for fatigue, she agreed to take care of it for me. She warned me that the procedure — which is also not in any way permanent — might also leave my wrist a little sore for a few days. So I should make another appointment farther from a Sunday.
Today, that happened.
Boy what a lot of fun this is. Fortunately, I’d been warned what was involved.
After a little bit of topical anesthetic, she got out a much larger needle. Not as large as I’d expected, but larger than one likes to see regularly.
And she jabbed. And she jabbed. And then she jabbed some more. Apparently, my friend The Ganglion, whom we shall call Jim, did not want to go gently into that good needle.
Every time she jabbed she would push and pull the plunger and wriggle the tip around inside my wrist trying to take Jim down. And Jim would duck and weave and dance around avoiding her weapon of Jim destruction.
Eventually she found Jim and managed to get the sticky-bit into him. And when she pulled back on the plunger I was actually able to watch Jim sink lower and lower into blissful oblivion.
On the walk home, as the topical wore off, I realized that I wasn’t even at all sore. I’m not going to overdo using that wrist for a couple of days, but, at least for the moment, my extra little bundle of nerves is gone. Hopefully I won’t tire as easily as a result.
And I think that’s just Jim dandy.
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