Life Is Good

I've stopped counting my smokeless age in hours. It's days upon days now. Today was 11 days (unless you're rigid and legalistic and make me start over from The Friday Night Fall 9 days ago). I am eleven days cigarette-sober. Now I only think about it when I smell it.

Not much to report today. I'm impressed that I didn't get a stack of flaming emails from blog-reading militia men in Idaho after yesterday's post. Maybe we're reaching a point where we can say what's on our minds without impugning each other's citizenship. Wouldn't that be nice. Either way, kudos to the wingnuts...at least until I get the first piece of hate mail. I know those corners of society where there is little more offensive than a queer badmouthing the military and G.W. I know those corners well.

I have most of my M.B.A. to go with my other degrees. I will tell you that in one of the upper-echelon universities in this fair country of ours, there is a hard financial fact that they do not teach in business school. Some of my professors came from Harvard, Yale, Michigan - the big boy schools. They never mentioned this principle. I am doing a little karmic balancing by revealing it here - for the benefit of others. Ready?

Financial Fact: When you have committed to writing a large check for a major expense, such as a bathroom remodel, there will be one large emergency expense AND one very attractive purchase that will confront you in the same pay period.

Flat tire. Four DVD's, Five CD's - $99.95. Gaither Homecoming Series. I haven't been spending the money on smoking. In eleven days, I've saved $44.11. The music really only cost me $55.84, if you think about it. Plus, I love that music and they don't judge when I sing along. My neighbor in the unfortunately-painted Orange House is an auto mechanic. They know something's wrong with me - physically - so he didn't even balk when I sheepishly asked if he could get the donut on and the flat tire off. I know some good people. And it's not their fault the house is orange. They're just renting.

When people ask where I live - and they always ask where I live - the conversation always concludes with "Oooohhhhh...next to The Orange House?" I know full well that much of the traffic past my little corner has nothing to do with daily errands. Some of them make the trip on the off-chance they might catch The Gay Guy and The Orange House in the same tableau. The house is more unique than I am around town. They might not know, but I do, that I am (at best) one of seven gay men in town. I think every time I go through the checkout line without a vibrator, tofu and a stack of Playgirls, they must scratch their heads and vow to watch Will & Grace more often. It's nice to be noticed.

No headache today. No Shoe-in-Glue mouth this morning. I forgot to take the diuretic this afternoon, so I'll be up all night peeing - again. I think the headache and what-not was more sinus-related than anything. I did good, though. I didn't take a single pill - other than Tylenol - to blunt the pain. That's big for me. I do not tolerate pain. If this were 1835, I would endure pain. In 2006, there is no reason to be in pain - over anything. We have enough pills, gas and liquor to numb anything. I love that I live in this era. If you told someone in 1835 that 170 years hence they could be completely pain-free - and have a car - but in exchange would be the reality of AIDS and white women with corn rows....I think they'd have rolled the dice and said, "OK."

With the exception of the corn rows, life is pretty good.