Well my extra income job of unbuckling, lotioning-up, and resetting into position the right leg of my neighbor after knee surgery will be coming to an end this coming Tuesday when she gets the velcro cast off to enter rehab.
At $25/day for a 15 minute to 1/2 hour gig at the most, I’m getting paid $75/hour.
Only once before in my life, when I was a tight-skinned dewy-eyed 23 year-old did I ever make $75 an hour. Let’s just say it was a modeling job.
Anyway, the will to survive is instinctive, and since I’m pretty good at bedside manner (Chris used to call me Nurse Fuzzy to another friend’s Nurse Jane), I’ve suggested to my spouse that he take the crowbar out into the neighborhood (it’d save on gas) and pull a Tanya Harding.
He won’t do it.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You’re going to frown on me for this, but I kind of like Tonya Harding. Sure, the 911 calls from screaming boyfriends in trailer parks, the boxing, etc…. She just went wrong one degree and skidded down the long slope.