Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Fix'n stuff

I forgot to give my sweety her meds today, silly me. Supper time came and she was a little more 'testy', shall we say, than her normal spiky self without all the bribes and coddling. So I took out her stash of hidden mood enhancers, and low and behold, the lunch ones where still there, pristine in their blister pack. “Sorry”, I apologized to her 'three' cats who were nowhere to be seen. “We'll have mom fixed up in a jiffy. She'll be good to go in a few minutes. We'll give her both her lunch and her supper pills, it'll make her day. With that steaming lasagna in the oven you guys will have full tummies tonight. Just give her about ten minutes. Those meds work real quick.”

Being a veteran diesel mechanic gives me a real good insight on how to fix'n things, how to keep them running ship shape. We all screw up once in a while – forget to fill the fuel tank, you know. But these things can be fixed, just fill the tank, bleed the injectors and you're off and running again. It's the same with people – forgot your meds, you know. But you take a double dose, give your head a shake, and you're good to go - just take care on the road though.

To regress a moment, I often think the wage disparity between mechanics and doctors is haywire. Docs make a cut, remove or add a few parts, and staple it all up in a jiffy and the body will heal itself even if it leaks a little in the process. Mechanics however must disassemble, change or repair parts, and then they have to do all the healing themselves by welding or bolting using sealants and if it leaks they are responsible for more repairs. And really, what's worth more, a $987,654 buggy or the fungible operator who slices his thumb wide open adjusting the antenna for his tunes?

So we sit down to dine, steaming lasagna on the platter. Sweety is smiles from ear to ear. Her three cats, the orange ones calmly recline by her feet. As the platter empties, the cats change colour, from orange to grey to black and white. I extol my wife's ferocious appetite and she just beams wider. I often wonder whether those three chameleons appreciate my efforts at sponsoring their well being all because of the bribing and coddling which must betide to keep my better half reasonably consonant. They could at least be more forthwith about this colour change thing. I don't for one moment believe my sweety's claim of only three cats even if that's all I ever see at one time. Dementia or not, ten pounds of dirty litter every day from three felines? I was not born yesterday, my dear.

Oh yes, back to my sweety. Well the dishes are washed, she's all tucked in for beddy bye and she asks me “Did you forget supper tonight?” This memory thing, I think it may be catching.
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