This section has been so unrelentingly gloomy the past few months that I figured I ought to mention a few things that worked out favorably for me last month.

Your average Professing Nudist will tell you that one significant advantage of doing without clothing is that you won't be horribly embarrassed if someone catches you, um, doing without clothing. (Tautological assertion is tautological.) That said, not everyone is prepared for this event a couple of weeks ago following a bath fall:

Naked and wet, I crawled the entire length of the hallway, about 25 feet, to get to my cell phone, and summoned 911. The EMTs couldn't haul me up to vertical for more than fractions of a second.

I assure you, I was much more worried about getting the front door unlocked to admit the EMTs — which is difficult to do when reaching up from the floor — than I was about being seen in the altogether. The subject, in fact, did not come up until they'd persuaded me that perhaps I should be hauled to the emergency room, at which time I suggested that it might go better if they could get some clothes on me. (Warmer, certainly.) And you have to figure, if they've been answering emergency calls for any length of time, they're bound to have seen things far worse than an old guy who no longer has a tan.

An unexpected communication from Francis W. Porretto last week evoked several smiles. The Curmudgeon Emeritus requested from his Long Island parish a daily Mass dedicated to me. It will be held on Friday, 6 January; in addition, my name will be added to the local list of the lame and halt, that I might benefit from the prayers of the congregation. I am enough of a believer in prayer, having had some answered favorably, to think this an extraordinarily generous gesture.

Weirdly, it seems that CFI Care (not its real initials) thinks I've spent enough damn money on health care this year. I had eleven prescriptions filled last night. Total copay, I estimated, was $348. Amount they charged me: zilch. This killed my previous theory, concocted Tuesday when I had two new scripts filled at a different pharmacy in preparation for having to move all of them before CVS gets forcibly propelled from CFI's provider network. I was prepared for anything from $8 (presumed best case) to $300. No charge. And so I decided to celebrate in a small, relatively inexpensive manner.

This was done about 1.2 miles north of the drugstore, at a not-at-all-busy-at-5:15 McDonald's, where I treated myself to not one but two McRibs, which rare and precious sandwich I hadn't had in two years or more. I duly reported the find to the McRib Locator, though it doesn't count as "confirmed" because I didn't bother to take a picture of my sauce-soaked register receipt. If you're near 6700 North May in Oklahoma City, please be advised that I did score two McRibs (total price, $4.00) at that Mickey D's.

The Vent

  1 December 2016

 | Vent menu |

 Copyright © 2016 by Charles G. Hill