“Remoted – Hybrid” – Day 734 (Sunday) – hot dog demons

The ongoing punishment of screwing with time to “spring ahead” an hour continues. Last night, despite plans to go to bed early, I barely made it to bed at the usual hour. Dance class in the morning meant there was no opportunity to sleep late. Much coffee was chugged before leaving the house.

New zills!

New zills arrived during the week, and this was the first class to use them for longer than the few times they were practiced with at the house. By the halfway point of dancing, my lower back was nagging at me. By the time we finished, it was screaming so loudly at me that my zills were drowned out and I was fantasizing about drugstore hot/cold patches. 

Today’s plan was to meet Mom and my sister at Jeffrey's, a local antiques co-op after dance. It was fun looking at the old timey stuff (which now includes a couple booths of Lego items) and being with Mom and sis cracking wise with comments, but walking around the store had me feeling like a call for the EMTs might be needed. Thank goodness for the most remarkable accessory ever added to an automobile – the heated seat, which was activated for the entire ride back to Lowell.

For reasons I can’t understand, I found myself in the parking lot at Market Basket on the way home. Again. Without a list and hungry. It was as if the car autopiloted itself into the lot. The best, most logical guess is that Market Basket is radiating a forcefield that overtakes the computer and mechanical systems in the Jeep and drags it into the lot.

At the end of the shopping trip, there were few enough items to go through the 20 items express checkout. The usual staples like sliced mushrooms, potato chips, and English muffins were represented. These were accompanied by the extravagant and decadent indulgence of lobster salad finger sandwiches. And there were some oddball things in the cart, not bought by me in decades.

Somehow, a package of hot dogs landed in the cart. Not even the gourmet, all beef kosher dogs of my past hot dog eating life, either. They were the cheapest hot dogs on the shelf. It was as if I suffered some sort of demonic possession while in the store. What next? Chicken feet, beef liver, and tongue?

Based on recent cravings for steak and cheese subs and today’s acquisition of hot dogs, it seems my mostly vegetarian days may be diminishing. Next thing you know, I’ll be running off to a steak house and ordering steak tartare. Or choking on a hot dog like that time when I was three and needed a Heimlich at Mummu’s to dislodge it so I could live to tell the tale. I better make sure to invite someone over to provide supervision on hot dog day.

More ab exercises might help with the lower back situation. An exorcism might be helpful for the grocery store thing. The upcoming Google searches are sure to be interesting.