Sunday, April 26, 2020

“My Crickets: A Little Decameron #30”


The dominate mourning dove was singing after midnight last night and is now singing his lonely song at 5:00 a.m.
     It almost seems he's moaning not in desire of love but out of sadness. And yesterday was not such a happy day for me.
      I think our brown cricket has died. I haven't heard him now for two days, while the black one strongly carries on in my bathroom, beginning his 8th week as a resident. Maybe I should ask him to pay rent. But he does more to comfort me than I can express.
     And yesterday I needed comforting.
      Howard made excellent Spaghetti Carbonara. But as I begin to clean up the dishes—one of my household duties—I suddenly and inexplicably fell to the kitchen floor, and for the first time ever, was unable to simply roll over and stand as I have in the past.
      I fell back to the floor 4 times, before Howard tried to rescue me. But even that didn't work, as I fell back yet again. It took his positioning of our small chair stairs, to help me find something to support me in my attempts of rising.
      Finally, I stumbled up, but realized I was badly bleeding. I couldn't figure out from where the blood was emanating. Only this morning did I see that my small left toe was covered in blood.
     Accordingly, I tracked some of the blood down the hall into the bedroom, into the bed, and, apparently later, into my bathroom.
     I also think I pulled a muscle in my upper left leg.
     I don't believe the small toe was broken (I can still move it), but I feel a bit like Billy Ray Cyrus' song "Achy Breaky" all over today.

Los Angeles, April 26, 2020
Reprinted from Facebook (April 2020).

No comments: