Monday Morning Meniere's

Woke this Monday morning at nine, screaming out my wife's name and rushing to the great room to realize that she was at work and had been away from home a spell. I could still catch a whiff of the fragrance she wore this morning. That's something I know my dear appreciates, very nice fragrances. Just like her Old Goat.

I make it my purpose to fight the sleep now. It's the same old song, just has a different beat. I have stoped keeping track of the hours but I can sadly share that I slept through the majority of my birth week and week end. There was no way that I was able to combat that sleep. No. None. Just sleep. And dream.

This morning my body and innards feel worse than yesterday. Pained, ache and sore. Even these finger knuckle's ache, and no this is not arthritis. Degenerative Bone Disease is supposedly the same thing, I don't know, but I do know what it feels like to live in constant states of pain due to degenerative bone disease of the cervical spine and lower lumber. What can I do? It's in the blood.

The Meniere's are peculiarly subtle right now. They're here yes, just under radar. Am hesitant to say much because I do not wish to jinx myself. I am sweating, yes, and nauseated too. The dizziness has me afloat. All on an even plane. The noises on the other hand are a topic of and all within themselves. I've been listening to what sounds like baby chickens beeping for the Mother to come home with a meal. No, I didn't say chirp, these loud little chicks are yellow and fluffy and are beeping like motherfuckers in my left Deaf ear. Yes! Louder than Jimi's, "Hey Joe".

Wait. There has been a gap in time pertaining to the usage of profanity. I used to drop them regularly. Like a Sailor. I have taken a step back into certain chambers of my brain and mind and realize I attempt to not use the profanity because of or for the sake of an other. What? Did I forget who tip-taps these letters onto this screen. Yes, I think I have. What the fuck?

Once I have shared a bit here I may step out back to my bird and butterfly garden. I heard the shriek of Hawk, my Feathered Cousin earlier this morning. The tone of the shriek indicated an unpleasant situation for something over here in the preserve.

I ate a break fast. Listening to Jimi. Fed Uncle Chester and Aunt Helen. I want to sleep. Badly.