|
|
|
Lyme or caffeine withdrawal?
Friday, October 7 2011
Deborah hosted a "thanks for helping me move" dinner party at her new place out in Krumville this evening, and Gretchen and I carpooled with Ray and Nancy to get there. On the way, we all kept commenting about how long the drive was.
Deborah lives pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but she's actually almost within walking distance of the Country Inn, an isolated (but, judging from its parking lot, very popular) restaurant that is far superior to our own Hurley Mountain Inn.
As do we, Ray and Nancy drive marginal cars that tend to have their check engine lights on and weird noises coming from the chassis. In the back seat of their Subaru, the imperfectly-absorbed rumble of the road (coupled with movement in whatever joints had come loose through the years) made an ominous roar that rather reminded me of the sonic textures created by Wolves in the Throne Room (which I'm still listening to).
With all her tasteful possessions in place, Deborah's house looked warm and charming. It's definitely the best housing situation she's had since I've known her.
At this point I was unsure whether or not my persistent lower back pain was something I could still blame on caffeine withdrawal. I drank a delicious Little Sumpin' Sumpin Ale and it tasted somewhat poisonous, indicating the absence of caffeine still had my system out of equilibrium. But I'd never read anything about caffeine withdrawal causing so much joint pain. Perhaps I was suffering the effects of another infection of Lyme Disease.
A lot of dogs showed up. We brought Sally and Eleanor, Michæl from KMOCA brought Penny, and a woman who had helped with the move brought two dogs, one of which was someone else's purebred German Shepherd named Kaiser. A fully intact male, Kaiser spent nearly the whole evening following Penny around trying to figure out how to make the evening magical. Penny wasn't interested, keeping her tail tightly between her legs and squealing eardrum-piercingly at Kaiser whenever he boxed her in.
Deborah had done all the cooking tonight, and while she is often a good cook (her bread, for example, is always delicious), she can get a little too experimental at time. One of her muses had whispered into her ear that she should melt a whole chocolate bar into a vat of lentil soup, and the results were edible, but just barely. (Then again, I don't really like chocolate in any form.)
By the end of the evening, my various aches and pains were making it hard for me to find any kind of comfort. I wasn't my normal borderline-drunk extroverted party self. I could make a few comments now and then, but mostly I stayed silent.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?111007 feedback
previous | next |
