The Norman Transcript
NORMAN — Ask a dozen people what constitutes a perfect weekend and you would get as many answers. But if one leans toward euphemisms with a generous dose of sarcasm, then your answer may be light years away from the norm.
This reporter’s weekend began with what could be termed the purge and poke, also known as a colonoscopy. Stage one consists of a liquids only day, with the caveat that liquids with red dye should be avoided. Therefore, the only sunshine in the day is water, water and more water with a touch of coffee, tea and chicken bouillon. The upside of this exercise is that the stomach shrinks to the point of gurgling cramps.
Gurgling cramps is a technical term which describes the indignant stomach’s howls for sustenance of the substantial kind. The best one can offer to placate the growling beast is a can of 140 sweet, empty but divine, calories of Coke. A drink usually avoided, but the instant energy of that libation is pure heaven, capable of placating the beast and fooling the taste buds into believing that something delicious passed their way.
Then at 6 p.m., things go downhill from there. For those who have endured this process, stage one is the worst part.
Stage two, the poke, is over quickly and one awakens from a refreshing nap for a brief chat with the doctor.
“Everything looks good and here are up close and personal photos of the four foot incursion into your lower intestine.”
Oh, joy. They will be perfect for the annual family Christmas card.
“Doctor, I have to ask. What made you decide on a career spent looking at peoples’ bottoms?”
“That is just a small part of what I do. My work encompasses problems related to gastrointestinal disorders and surgery as well. Colon cancer is the second leading cause of cancer death and I want to save as many lives as possible.”
Interesting and commendable, but posteriors of most creatures, particularly humans, are the least attractive part of their anatomy. Compound the problem with the fact that almost everyone in the waiting room that morning was closer to obese than not. Consequently, a day spent staring at the nether cheeks is not conducive to a hearty appetite by dinnertime.
Day two of the perfect weekend ended with the arrival of Daylight Saving Time. For those who list this annual event right up there with a colonoscopy, your assessment is close. However, there are folks who actually look forward to and love the extra hours of daylight because it gives them the illusion that not every waking moment is taken up with work.
Granted, we go to work before sunrise, but at the end of a long work day the drive home is easier in daylight. During the brief Standard Time during the winter months, even the diehard anti-DST folks dislike driving home in the dark. In fact, yours truly has been known to miss the turnoff for our County Road on more than one occasion. Quite aggravating when all you want to do is get home and shut out the world.
The logical solution would be to keep one or the other and not bounce back and forth like sleep deprived ping pong balls. Oh, wait. This is a governmental edict and logic has never been their strong suit.
Day three of the perfect weekend was one of discovery. Hubby found a water leak. After doing the pickax swing mambo for hours, the yard resembled an archeological excavation, and the leak is under the house.
Every plumber we called was “very busy” during the upcoming week. When we asked about a Saturday appointment, one Bubba laughed. “We have to charge time and a half on Saturday.”
Perhaps guys like that should be called, Bubba Shylock, which would describe their lack of professionalism and usurial mindset, by cracky.
May the gods bless us with an uneventful next weekend.
Elizabeth is a freelance writer and author. Her latest novel Sins of the Father available on amazon.com. Website: www.elizabethcowan.com.
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