Quick notes

CT scan yesterday was no big deal. I await the results telling me whether I have any sinuses or not. Either way, I’m starting allergy shots today. It’s like being 12 again! When I was a kid, the allergy shots were a big weekly production requiring my aunt, who looked after us, to drive me over to Schenectady to the bank where my mother worked, where I’d have to get buzzed in (it being after 3; banks closed at 3 then, at the latest) and then sit around and wait while my mother finished up enough so she could leave a little early, and then we’d drive up to Union Street, wait to be called for the shots, and then wait again while they checked to see if the shots had killed me or turned my arm blue or anything. They never did.

My ass still hurts from sleeping on the ground for a week.

If you don’t get choked up, just every now and then, listening to Richard Shindell of Cry Cry Cry singing “Cold Missouri Water,” the story of the tragic Montana wildfire of ’49, then mister, you ain’t human.