I haven't been feeling well the past couple of days. Woke up with a very mild sore throat Friday morning. It hasn't gotten any worse or better, but it also hasn't gone away. Is there a WebMD in the house? Began feeling really tired yesterday. Left work early and laid in bed most of the afternoon and evening.
Fortunately, the History Channel was off da hook last night. (It's a hip phrase the kids are using. Don't concern yourself with it.) First, they had a UFO special on that I hadn't seen before. Then came Lost Worlds: Secret Cities of the A Bomb. Am I the only person who saw this? It was fascinating. And some of those Calutron Girls were pretty cute!
The past few days have been filled with little friendly reminders that I am still single. Post-it notes, if you will, that say things such as "Still a bachelor," "You need a woman", and "You're 33, get married already." It began Thursday when I went to the mall to look for a new shirt, tie, and maybe pants to wear to my last remaining single cousin's wedding on Saturday.
As stated previously, I prefer to have a female with me on shopping excursions. When I do have to go alone, I like to find an attractive sales associate in the store to help me. Well, this wasn't happening at either store I ventured into Thursday night.
After looking around for half an hour and getting no help in the first store, I walked down to store B. One lady attempted to help me there. But after an hour of her trying to help, I wound up picking out a shirt and tie on my own while she was taking care of some other customers.
Reminder number two was Friday when I drove to Atlanta. By myself. Stayed in a spacious hotel room with two beds and a balcony. By myself. Ordered room service for breakfast. By myself. (From the price of my omelet and orange juice, I have deduced that eggs must be very rare in Atlanta.)
The wedding Saturday went off without a hitch. Actually, I guess that isn't entirely true, since the entire point of the wedding is to get hitched. So there was one intentional hitch, at the end.
As it stands now, I am the last remaining single cousin. At least over the age of 20 or 21. It's actually not that bad. I think of it kinda like a great quarterback who hasn't won the big one. The best golfer never to win a major. Basically, I'm to relationships what Colin Montgomerie is to golf. We've both gotten close. Just haven't closed the deal yet.
Driving home Saturday, I was making excellent time. That is, until the interstate was closed because of a wreck north of Birmingham. So I and every other northbound driver were routed off onto a two-lane road.
One might think driving thru the Alabama countryside for ten or twelve miles at an average speed of six miles per hour would be a pleasant experience. Yeah, not so much. What normally would be a three hour drive ended up taking six.
Oh sure, there were highlights. Like the college kids two cars ahead of me continuously getting out of their car and running up to the vehicle ahead of them, dribbling a basketball out the window, etc. There were the fields and woodlands and little country homes, one of which had a Confederate flag flying in the front yard.
And then there was me attempting to, uh, refill a mostly empty Mountain Dew bottle. (I knew I shouldn't have stopped for that 20 ounce Dew, Zero candy bar, and scratch off tickets before I left Georgia.)
If we can't avoid hitting the toilet seat while standing still, well you can imagine what fun it was trying to keep it in a one-inch diameter hole. While driving. And trying not to be conspicuous. In stop-and-go traffic.
Let's just say I didn't eat anything or touch my face with my hands until I got home to my anti-bacterial soap.
And now, I'm sick. With no one to bring me juice or a wet washcloth for my forehead. Yet another reminder.
So you see. Shopping. Road trips. Weddings. Traffic jams. Being sick. Peeing in a bottle. These are just some of the reasons I need a female companion. And over the past five days, I've gotten that message loud and clear.
When or if I'll find said companion remains to be seen. In the meantime, whenever the next major golf tournament is, I'll be rooting for Monty.
"Now they're goin' to bed. And my stomach is sick. And it's all in my head. But she's touching his chest now. He takes off her dress now. Let me go..."