Bathroom serenade, bent out of shape + orange-ganic

Originally uploaded by Ampersand Photography.

» I was in stall #3 of the 19th floor washroom (the one with the plush TP you might remember) when I heard a guy stride into the room whistling loudly. He continued to whistle enthusiastically, at full volume, while he got down to business at the urinals. It was some famous showtune I couldn’t play. Like "Singing In the Rain" but it wasn’t. He was jazzing up the melody enough that it was just this side of a recognizable melody. I think he might have been mashing-up the Gershwin songbook, whistling a few bars of a dozen songs at a time. I expected him to stop whistling but he kept going. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone whistle in public, much less in a washroom, with such fervor. He only stopped for a spell of grunting and wheezing. So much grunting and wheezing I thought he was defecating in the urinal. The grunting stopped and the whistling restarted as he washed his hands. When he was at the sink I could see through the crack in the door of stall #3 that it was the morbidly obese Roger Ebert clone from the other set of offices on our floor. I later saw him standing by the elevators, still whistling.

» Last wednesday I slept on my arm weird in an attempt to not disturb Mandi in her own slumber. I knew it was a bad idea but it wouldn’t be the first time a guy did something foolish for love. Besides, she made me an origami X-Wing fighter last week. I owed her that much.

As I suspected, I woke up with a stiff arm but I assumed it would sort itself out by mid-afternoon. It didn’t. Nor did it sort itself out in the following days. I’m still not able to raise my left arm higher than between 0 and 10 degrees. Luckily, I don’t really ever need to raise it higher than maybe -25 degrees. So I was ignoring it and wondering if it was semi-dislocated or perhaps there was something wrong with my bursa. I wasn’t all that concerned until yesterday when (not only did I realize it had been over a week but that) it was getting worse. If I turned my arm in certain directions it felt like someone was stabbing me with an invisible dagger. Mandi was poking at it last night and seems to think I have a severe knot. Her poking seemed to help. So she’s probably right.

» Yesterday’s Honey tangerine was a disappointment. Dried out and seedy. It’s skin was somewhat leathery and it simply gave me a sordid feeling having it in my mouth. I thought this might have been the end of my obsession with tangerines but I’ve given the tangy ones another chance. 

I’ve gone back back to the Minneola. But this time I chosen an organic variety. This delightful specimen peeled easily, the juice was both sweet and sour and it was entirely seedless. It was like slipping into a cool bed with freshly made sheets on a hot evening with nightingales singing softly outside the window.


5 Responses to Bathroom serenade, bent out of shape + orange-ganic

  1. Anonymous says:

    ok, i can’t take it anymore. The best way to pick a yummy, tasty citrus fruit is to smell it. If it has no scent it will not taste good. If it smells citrusy, it’s most likely a good one. There. Try that and see if it makes a difference.

    the X

  2. ydnimyd says:

    Last time I hurt myself like that in my sleep, the doctor did this awesome thing where he rolled me on my side, placed his fist where the upper middle of my spine would land then rolled me over onto his fist. My back popped insanely loud, but I tell you, I could use my arm again. If your insurance covers you seeing a D.O. (don’t ask me what that stands for, but it’s some kind of doctory business where they’re a general practitioner but can do some chiropractic-type stuff), you should, and maybe they can do something similar for you.

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