Acid Soak

 

The acid soak was a mild success, though nothing that I should toot my own horn about. I arrived at the Egyptian’s office at 10:15, exhausted from the search for usable parking within the cavernous garage that the gods of the city had provided. I eventually opted for a spot on the rooftop, preferring the challenge of the four-flight descent to the tawdry press of car bodies that occupied the floors below. Having made it inside and having my blood pressure read, the Egyptian declared me free of any onset of diabetes – a happy moment indeed, as Christmas called upon me with its promises of steaks and pies.

Unable to fully fall into complacency, I retired to my abode with a half-jar of ointment the Egyptian recommended to apply to my leg muscles as a part of the acid soak aftercare. So I spent my evening in the purple tint of the room, with the worry of the requirement of filling up my vehicle with gasoline looming in the back corners of mind – one task I would not overlook.

Come morning, I set off with my canine companion to the park at the accord of the searing sun and will make good on applying the ointment. What else will transpire on this day is hard to assess, though I’m sure that the winded canine that meanders with me will be quite happy to enjoy even this small reprieve from the trappings of society. 

Life is rarely so unpredictable as it is when uncanny treatments dot your day. Nevertheless, I believe in the power of their treatment, their promise to return us to health. Here’s to the hope that comes and tomorrow, and to returning to normalcy – however long that may take.