Hi, it's me! Hi!
“I haven’t written in too long,” I told Abby, and she said, “write about the changing seasons,” and I was like, “You mean, talk about the leaves?” and she was like “Sure, I don’t know,” and I was like, “You DON”T know, Abby, I could fill a BOOK with how much you don’t know” and she was like “Why are you attacking me?”
OK, actually I said, “Mm, maybe,” but she knew what I meant.
Let’s talk about mouth tape instead
I bought mouth tape. You’re supposed to tape your mouth shut whilst you sleep, for various reasons. Because some online people say mouth tape healed them of fatigue/headaches/nearsightedness/receding gums/receding chin. I haven’t used it because other people say mouth tape can and will kill you?! I do have a wee touch of the obstructive sleep apnea, which, oh boy, 9 out of 10 doctors have contraindicated mouth tape for people with OSA but Dr. TikTok says it works great and the naysayers are “silly billies”?! I own a CPAP but I’ve given up; I have never managed to use it all the way through the night, it always makes me feel like I am being suffocated. I’m not sure why air being shot up my nose makes me feel like I can’t breathe but there it is—similarly, I also hate being in a convertible with the top down. So I convinced myself that my OSA is better, despite Scott’s occasional observations to the contrary. And then I bought mouth tape, which I am now afraid to use.
Further evidence of my encroaching senility
Yesterday I forgot the word “ring.” That is, as an item you would place on your finger. I was in a jewelry store with Liz and I was looking at an especially fetching “ring” (look at me, throwing that word out there all casual) and I thought, what an attractive … thing you’d wear on your … hand-parts. I felt my face get all hot with dementia-panic and then I thought RING, yes, ring, of course. RING!
It was an attractive ring and I wanted to know how much it cost, although if it wasn’t $50 (and it wasn’t) the answer was “too much, Bradley, step away.” Why must jewelry stores hide their prices? You look into the displays, you see all the various, uh, jewels, you want to know how much an item is, and you have to ask?! And then a salesperson comes over and unlocks the display and pulls out the item in question and is like, this would be $7500, and I can tell from looking at you that your credit cards are non-platinum. No, you can’t try it on! they say, slapping at your rough washerwoman hands. Shoo! And you slink away in shame.
In conclusion
I don’t get wild rice. It seemed like everyone was eating wild rice for a time in the eighties, and I’m not afraid to say I didn’t care for it. These days I’ll occasionally see it mentioned at a restaurant that thinks it’s more upscale than it is, maybe serving as a bed for a tough piece of chicken breast. No thank you. Wild rice is both dry and wet at the same time. I don’t like my rices to taste punitive.
Do you have a question for me?
If you need advice; if you want me to write about something specific; if you’re just, like, “Why?” Reply to this newsletter or write to finslippy at gmail.