Friday, I got out of bed. That’s a start. If you don’t get out of bed, you’re either unwell, unwilling or unalive.
How do you feel this bad after eight hours in the sack? I had Jimmy legs and was doing the Jimmy legs boogie-woogie.
Rather than a straight line, Jimmy legs has you walking side to side and although you narrowly miss the dresser, sometimes you bang your head on the half opened door. Banging your head on the half-opened door is a signature boogie-woogie move. When you see somebody with a red spot on their forehead, chances are they bounced their head on a door.
Going down stairs is no gimme. Remember, most falls happen in the first few steps or the last few steps or any of the steps in between.
Maybe a glass of chocolate milk would help. A friend told me chocolate milk is restorative and he generally looks pretty restored so I poured myself a glass and tried to look like he did, which isn’t easy because he has that healthy chocolate milk look in his cheeks.
The chocolate milk didn’t move the “I think I’m going to die" needle, nor did the plain bagel slathered with butter and chunks of aged Gouda.
It wasn’t 9 yet and I was gassed. I wasn’t worried about going back to bed, I was worried about making it to the bed so I could go back to bed.
Could this be July? I talked to a friend recently and he said, “I don’t think I’m dying but I’m chronically tired."
No, he’s chronically July. July is the month people take a knee. People take a knee who don’t normally take a knee.
I took a knee and then took to bed. I was too tired to feel ashamed and not ashamed enough to stay awake. I thought about Eddie Lujan and wondered if this might be my Eddie Lujan moment.
Eddie used to work for The Californian. He was a sweet man and a heck of a runner. One morning after a run, Eddie came home, sat in his recliner and drifted away.
Eddie had an excuse. Eddie had run 15 miles. Eddie left it on the trail and left this world in a blaze of glory.
I was not Eddie but that didn’t keep me from sleeping for 30 minutes. When I woke up, I drank a bottle of cold water and made a list with a couple of softballs on it that I could cross off quickly and feel like I’d done something, nothing heroic like Eddie but at least something.
July is real. Given that we’ve had heat behind us and have heat ahead, how about a Bakersfield version of a busman’s holiday: Everybody has permission to feel bad, exhausted and as if they aren’t going to make it. Then, close your eyes and dream of what is to come.
October. Fall. Cool.
The start of eight glorious, Bakersfield-loving months.
We shall be restored. We shall be relieved. We shall be ourselves again with or without chocolate milk.
July 21, 2020 at 04:58AM
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HERB BENHAM: We shall be relieved - The Bakersfield Californian
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Herb
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