Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Day 25 - Dreams of Kelly Ripa

          My replacement started today. I started out for work, but turned around and came home before I made it all the way there. I was having a lot of pain then, and I’m having a lot of pain still in spite of the excellent drugs. It started on Sunday afternoon, and has been intense and unrelenting ever since. The oxycodone is not managing the pain. At best it makes it so that I don’t care about the pain, but to get to this level of indifference requires doubling up on the dosage. I called work and told them that I wasn’t coming in. I called again and talked to Helen to let her know what’s up with me. I asked her to convey this information to my replacement. Hopefully he won’t worry about what he’s gotten himself into. It will be bad enough for him without having to worry about me.
          At home I popped pills, pushed fluids and watched daytime TV. My wife works at home. She does online transcription. She’s one of those people who stays busy all the time. She’s a card-carrying Type A personality. She doesn’t watch daytime TV. She thinks daytime TV is silly. She might be right, but in my current state I am not capable of undertaking anything more challenging. I try to be embarrassed about what I am watching, but embarrassment also seems to be beyond my capabilities.

          I have always liked the cheap and tawdry in entertainment. I like bad movies, professional wrestling, The Real Housewives of Orange County. The shallow and the vapid have a great deal of appeal for me. I like to be beat over the head with the obvious. I like a lot of scantily clad window dressing. I like raw emotion rooted in base instinct and ignorance. I like shallow water. I knew within a few short hours that I would be hooked on soap operas in a matter of days. I took two more pills and went to bed. I dreamed of Kelly Ripa.
          Sometime later the Oklahoma recruiter called and woke me up. My wife made excuses while I splashed cold water on my face in a vain attempt to get my pharmacologically compromised brain to focus. The Aerospace firm has decided on another candidate. They found someone locally—someone they wouldn’t have to relocate. My addled mind translated the unspoken and unvarnished truth. They found someone younger, cheaper, healthier, prettier, better educated, and more competent. I’m never going to get another job. I took another pill and went back to bed. Kelly Ripa did not reappear. Damn!

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