Call Me Al
This weekend I was ill. First of all, my sincerest apologies to any of the bowling party who finds themselves incapacitatingly sick this week. At one point, I was lying on my bathroom floor, not because I felt like I might vomit, but merely because I lacked any capacity to move myself to a more convenient location. I thought to myself, “What if die here? Wouldn’t that just suck?” It would probably be a good three or four days before anyone even noticed I was missing. Could be a week before anyone made any serious effort to find me. Sad that. Yet, whenever I am ill, I am always confident that I will get better. There are a lot of people who do not have that luxury. Sadder that.
Yesterday I realized that I had not been tired or hungry for days. I do sleep, and I do eat, but only because these seem like things I should be doing. I am reminded of The Sixth Sense. “Walking around like regular people. They only see what they want to see. They don’t know that they’re dead.” So what if I did die? I still seem perfectly capable of such worldly activities as operating a motor vehicle and logging on to the internet. Going to school would be a waste of time I imagine. In particular, last night I spent almost six hours on what I propose to be the single most difficult assignment ever in a lower-division math course. Sort of like doing POV-Ray by hand. I must say, I was expecting more.