The Keys are Cursed

Really. I’m typing this into Word
right now because my server is down–
apparently it couldn’t take 4 inches of snow.
D*mn AEP, I suspect.

For the first time ever,
I dread the sight of my PC,
and I’ll tell you why:

WEDNESDAY

The awful appointment arrives–
my partner must undergo conscious-sedation
at the dentist office because of his mother.
Yes, I said his mother.
Laugh if you will, but she’s scarred him for life–
in the most banal ways
if you ask me--
but he does have bifurcated nerves
that do not, well let's just say,
respond well to injections.
Add that all to a history of hard candy
and dental appointments are never pretty.

So, being under conscious-sedation,
my partner forgets that our lives together
are really all about me.
Well. It is.
On my own I must negotiate him home–
his unconscious size intimidates me. But honestly,
this time he was quite fun.
He made little jokes about
cutting off the ears to a Mickey Mouse hat
and hanging gallows of his mother there instead.

Don’t ask me to explain that image–
it was just funny, can’t you see?

Back to me.
I was in pain. The worse pain concerning
my back, neck and shoulders yet.
Stress pain, to be sure.
We had an hour drive home with little
ninjas stabbing their daggers into my spine.
I could have cried.

At home, I fed him some type of soup
and sent him to bed.

The next 36 hours were spent
in a haze of Flexeril on the sofa.

THURSDAY

Hello? See the last sentence.

FRIDAY

My sister brings her brood over
to exchange gifts, eat and be merry.
She bought me socks. Socks.
And not cute character socks, either.
White Haines Your Way anklets.
What did I ever do to her?

We head over to the cinema
to catch _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_.
Sigh of exasperation.
Yet another failed attempt at putting
Lewis’ story on film.
It is/was a disaster. All except the White Witch
who was marvelous.
And I didn’t want to be dazzled by her--
she's the bad guy . . .
no variant on shots, little character development,
ridiculous CGI (I had an urge to stand up
and shout: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, I Love You!) . . .
I’d go on, giving a splendid review,
if it weren’t for the ache
creeping between my shoulder blades.

It’s the cursed key board.
I really don’t want to be near it–
even if I so enjoy the sound of my own voice
sputtering here . . .
But d*mnit, I hurt!

And I am also avoid my PC
because 2 students are still emailing me
about their grades–I don’t know what to make of it.
I’ve never had this happen before.
But the entire situation in complicatedly stressful.
My conscious is pricked.
But it’s so hard to think under this haze of pain!

Oh! And one last thing:
I take on the mood of whatever book I happen to be reading.
So, reading Chopin's _The Awakening_ for my WS200
isn't really ideal for the holidays . . .