Who wants to sing those little ditties, though?
I am singing the refrain from Country Joe & The Fish's classic “I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag.”
And it's one, two, three,At least that is the song for today. It may change tomorrow.
What are we fighting for?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.
Claren had more stomach issues this morning, dropping a load of yucky on the family room floor. It seems to have been a one-time thing, and she is OK now.
In addition to working without her, which makes me feel crummy, I am wondering why she keeps having these issues. I blame the food and am going to change it as soon as I can. Actually, I blame the holistic vet who told me to put her on a beef food. I don't think it is right for her.
And I also think about the R-word for Claren. Is she tired of working? Would she be happier if she retired? I don't really think so, but I can't shake the thoughts.
I blame Claren's absence for the following event. If she had had my back, I would have said something. Yeah, right.
I go to the bathroom; five stalls empty; wheelchair one taken. This actually happened twice today, which kind of boggles my mind, but anyway. The person in the stall the first time is standing and appears, through the cracks in the stall doorway, to be a member of the maintenance staff. I wait a little, and he comes out and nods at me. I go in: There is a paper toilet seat cover still on the seat. It has been touched by a liquid at one place so it has a nice papier mache look. The toilet appeared clogged.
I backed out and left, while he sang the alphabet song at the faucets.
This is what kills me: If I called maintenance to come clean the toilet, this turkey might get the call. So why, in the name of all that is holy, did this a-hole treat the wheelchair stall like his garbage can? And a bigger question: Why didn't I say anything?
It's enough to make me wash my hands to the chant Country Joe led at Woodstock.
5 comments:
There is a special place in hell.
ejd
I would have called him on it. Something like "Sir, are you repairing something in the only handicapped stall or are you using it or testing it To see if it is operating correctly?" Depending on any of the answers I would then "reply, "is it safe and clean for my use and if not I expect that you will be fixing it or cleaning it IMMEDIATELY." Only way to give people the message.
Good luck with Claren and don't let your mind run away with thoughts of R. I think that we all know our bodies better than our doctors and the same would likely apply with what you know about Claren.
sdt
Just so you know, there was no need to sign that one. Only you would say that to the janitor, although you would not be in the men's room.
I just count, maybe I'm boring. I can try singing today.
I thought the second verse went"
5,6,7, open up the pearly gates,
don't ask me, I don't ask me I don't know why,
pretty soon we're all gonna die.
The lyrics were from Country Joe's website. I was sure it was "don't ask me I don't why, whoopie we're all gonna die." I am nopt sure where we got that. I just listened to it on youtube and it is like it is written."
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