THE WEEK I LOST MY LAUGH part 2

QUOTE OF THE DAY:
"I've always thought that a big laugh is a really loud noise from the soul saying, "Ain't that the truth."
Quincy Jones

THE WEEK I LOST MY LAUGH part 1


So my wife and I start talking about what has transpired over the last 8 hours. My thoughts and feelings, if I am OK and is there anything she can do to help. She shares her opinions on what she would do, or what I should have done, it's the usual dialouge we have after an afternoon with my mother.

Season finally asks me, "Are you going to go?"

I said "I don't know, we'll see what happens tomorrow." Still being in a wee bit of shock and confusion.

Sunday rears it's ugly head, and we don't talk about death or taxes. We just try to have a somewhat normal day, sitting at home, waiting for the phone to ring with the information that
will help me make a decision. Waiting and sitting by the phone, for the call my mother promised she'd make. Waiting and waiting.

Morning turns to Noon.

We decide to watch "Wild Hogs" and "The Ultimate Gift" as a distraction to the clock watching experience that we are engaged in.

Actually, they were very good distractions. They helped me laugh and cry. And for 3 1/2 hours all I thought about was 2 movies, and not the fact that I am sitting at home, waiting.

Afterwards, we return said movies to the land of Blockbuster, and spend about 30 seconds
deciding we don't want to get another movie.

Well truth be told, I spent the 7 minute car ride trying to convince my beautiful, yet stubborn wife that getting another movie benefits the economy, which in turn will eventually trickle back down to us (thank you TV for the bits of useless information that when wielded with intelligence, make strong and compelling arguments. But when used by yours truly, just makes me sound like a ass, blockhead, boob, booby, cretin, dimwit, donkey, dork, dumb ox, dumbbell, dunce, dunderhead, fool, halfwit, ignoramus, imbecile, jackass, jerk, kook, meat head, mental defective, moron, nincompoop, ninny, nitwit, pinhead, pointy head, simpleton, stupid, tom fool, twit and yo-yo {yeah they all sounded really good so I used them all}).

We finally arrived at the land of Blockbuster. We walked in. Returned the movies. We exited. We got in the car, and my wife looked at me and said "No we are not renting any more movies today."

"mumble mumble ok mumble mumble" was the best response I could give 'she who must be obeyed.'

We arrived back at home.

Still no phone call.

We ate.

Still no phone call.

Afternoon turned to evening.

Still nothing.

Evening turned to bed and romantic time.

Still no phone call.

Sunday turned to Monday, and as I am oft to do, I slept the day away.

Season came home with a fever and no voice, and laid down with me. And for the first time in quite a while I had a very very good sleep. Sleeping with my wife does that to me. I always sleep better with her in my arms. Sadly, this moment of bliss must come to an end. The alarm clock goes off, to tell me it's time for me to get ready to go to work.

I proceed with my morning rituals (well in my case, my afternoon rituals, but you get my drift) which includes stumbling out of bed, smoking a cigarette, using the bathroom, checking my emails, logging onto my space, wait for Season to call me from her last break, looking at the clock and going "FUCK, I need to get in the shower now!" and then heading out the door with 6 minutes to get to work. Sometimes all that is not possible. Sometimes I wake up and proceed straight to "FUCK, I need to get in the shower now!" and then heading out the door with 6 minutes to get to work. And on many occasions it's simply waking up and heading out the door with 6 minutes to get to work. I like having a plan with back ups, just in case.

Then the phone rings as I am about to sit down at the porn loader. My wife in the midst of her sickly/just woke up phase answers the phone, says ok, hangs up, tells me the service is in one hour, then proceeds to pass out again. I finish lighting my cigarette, pick up the phone call my mother back, and tell her I'll be over at 4:00. The clock on the cable box says 3:10, I call work, tell them I won't be in, I jump in the shower, shave, wash the body (spending extra time on those problem areas, because I'm going to be in close proximity to many people I don't know) dry off, brush my teeth, do my hair, come upstairs and look for clean clothes that are funeral appropriate.

My wife who has resurfaced into reality again, asks me "What's going on."

I tell her "I am going to the showing."

"Do you want me to come along?"

I looked at my wife, who to me never looked more beautiful, and said "No way Sickly von Infectious-stein, just stay home and get better."

I kissed my wife, and headed out the door. At exactly 4:00 I show up. My mother was already backing out of her parking spot. She sees me, pulling into the driveway, and stops. I park my car, walk over to hers and get in.

END OF PART 2