Monday, I did the whole rush from place to place thing and tried to fit meals in edgewise. That leads to a lot of eating in the car. Work. Eat. Work out. Eat. Choir rehearsal. Eat again. I think if I had a minifridge in the dash of my car, it would be more of a life saver than the airbag. An in-dash toaster oven and beverage dispenser would be too much like a Sprite commercial, but don't think I wouldn't use it.
On Fat Tuesday, I played hockey, then joined some of the guys at Maloney's for 75 cent tacos. I choked down four of them and a coke and bolted to try not to miss the Crossroads Mardi Gras parade. Nieda and Lake were already out and having fun at Kelly's in Westport, but we met up at Grinder's on 18th. It was nice to meet Dory, who works there and is somewhat hot. The trail of confetti down the street indicated that the parade had already passed. I went down the street to watch a very good punk rock band for a while. After drinks and some pretty good pizza (sliced meatball pizza is deluxe!) and incriminating pictures were taken by Leanderthal, we parted company. Adam D. and I motored to the Mardi Gras party at the Foundation. It was crowded inside, but the music was excellent. We chatted with some art crowd regulars and were interviewed and photographed by Jen Chen, who is cool, but really good at catching people off guard.
Wednesday, I just worked, worked out, then vegetated and watched Americans Idle.
Thursday, I started coming down with a cough and some chest congestion. So, I did the usual work-eat-workout-eat-tv-eat-sleep thing. Emphasis on the sleep part.
Friday, I felt rested and better. I went to the doc and got some antibiotics. I'm told I have MRSA. The first thing the doc asked, "Do you use antibacterial soap?" That's an understatement. When I take off my nasty hockey gear, I wash with surgical scrub. Methicillin Resistant Staph. Aurelius is the only thing that survives it. Without competition from the good bacteria which is supposed to be on your skin, it goes crazy. It's like killing all the predators in the jungle and letting the monkeys take over. And it was in my sinuses and on my skin. So, the moral of the story is this. . . antibacterial soap is only for hands.
After my workout Friday evening, I went to the KU versus MU hockey game. KU could have won that game, except for someone's skate being in the crease when the tying goal was scored and then retracted with 4:40 left in the 3rd period. Then MU proceeded to score again. 4-2 final. MU Tigers win.
Saturday, I worked out in the morning and went shopping. That included upgrading the broken radio in the Jeep to a fancy CD, MP3 player thing with a USB port on the front and built-in Sirius sattelite radio. That was a good thing on the road trip to Manhattan, KS later. I wish I had gotten a nap in, because by the time I had explored Aggieville and saw my brother's band play and loaded up their gear, and bumped into some KC acquaintences out there, I was dead tired. We grabbed food and hit the road. I don't remember much of I-70 except that I couldn't recline the seat because of a speaker cabinet and the seatbelt made a mark on my neck while I slept and my brother drove.
Sunday, well, it was already Sunday when we got home from Manhattan. I don't often see daybreak, but I fell face first onto the couch and later awoke to find that the indelible black B they drew on my hand at the bar to indicate that I was with the band had transferred very nicely onto my leather couch. My cough had resumed. I felt wiped out, so I ate some hot cereal. I skipped hockey. I needed a break. I watched the UFC 58 fights, recorded the previous night. I ate at Pancho's, then crashed.
It's Monday again, and I feel much better. Not 100% clear, but much better. This week, I'll try to not miss any hockey games. Rob Zombie in 40 days. Tick tock!