Blanket: (n) a large piece of material used as a covering for warmth.

Dictionary B

Having met my share of homeless brothers and sisters, I became very curious. What was it like to be homeless?

So I made a decision to don the uniform of the street and attempt to walk in the shoes of those without gainful employment, hearth and home.

I decided I would do it for a week, but must tell you that I abandoned it after twenty-four hours.

The daytime found me in a situation in which I constantly needed to be on the move so as not to annoy the “civilized” people who passed by. I got hungry very quickly and didn’t have any money, so had to figure out where to go for a free luncheon, or beg off of my neighbors.

It was humiliating.

But the most difficult part was when nighttime fell, and my mission was to locate a place to sleep that was both comfortable and safe.

I discovered that such a utopia does not exist for the street person.

I hid behind a huge bush and laid down several cardboard boxes I had broken up to use as my mattress. Several problems leaped to the forefront:

1. Every sound spooked me.

2. Sleeping on the ground means sharing the turf with things that creep and crawl.

3. I was uncomfortable not having my head elevated (pillow).

4. But the most annoying part was the lack of a blanket.

I was so accustomed to being covered, protected, swaddled by that piece of cloth that gave warmth and the sense of cocooning.

It made me bitchy, frustrated, cold, and caused me to wake up the next morning antagonistic toward the world around me–in a season when I was most vulnerable.

A blanket is a sense of well-being.

When you remove it, it takes away a gentle reassurance that all is well … and you are coddled.

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Bedroom: (n/adj) a room for sleeping in; relating to sexual relationsDictionary B

If you realize how silly we human beings are, it actually will make you become more merciful of the thoughts and actions of others.

This is evident to me with the word “bedroom.”

Even the dictionary can’t decide whether it’s a place of sleep or a launching pad for pleasure.

The bedroom itself, with all of its elements, is divided up equally as confusing.

For instance, the word “pillow” does not conjugate to any kind of sexual inference at all, but if you say “sheets,” then thoughts of what happens between them might cross your mind.

No one seems to get horny at the mention of a “blanket.”

And certainly, the word “dresser” does not rise up the blood pressure–unless you change it to “un-dress-her.”

How about the closet? I guess you could come out of it.

The accompanying bathroom does not evoke much passion.

But the word “mattress” does conjure visions of a high school fling or two.

I don’t think we are turned on by “box springs.”

But “night stand” might make us think about special implements and lotions located within.

We are so hilarious and uptight in our actions, yet often lascivious in our thoughts.

Yet if you did a chart on the amount of time you spend in the bedroom having sex, even reading and watching television would soar high above the antics.

Bedroom–another example of how childish we remain … while still insisting we are worthy of a mortgage.

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by J. R. Practix

Acetaminophen: (n.) an analgesic drug used to treat headaches, arthritis, etc., and also to reduce fever, often as an alternative to aspirin. Proprietary names include Tylenol.

You’re not supposed to use a lot of aspirin. I didn’t know that. It makes your stomach bleed. Perhaps it’s an old wives’ tale, but they say that every aspirin causes your stomach to secrete one teaspoon of blood. Makes you wonder how many old wives died of blood seepage.

I learned this the hard way–not about old wives, but about aspirin.

I took three young men into my life who were in the middle of a custody battle with their abusive biological father. On one of his visitation weekends, he snatched the young men and hid them out like they were pretending to be the Hole in the Wall Gang.

I was distressed. I couldn’t sleep. The lack of sleep made me ache all over as I actively pursued finding my new young friends. I began to eat aspirin like they were popping out of a Pez dispenser.

About two weeks later, I was walking from my bathroom to my bedroom when the surroundings began to shake and shimmer like I was in an earthquake. I barely made it to my bed, to grab my mattress, before I fell to the ground.

Well, long story short, it turned out I had one of those stomach bleeds due to overuse of aspirin. It was not a sickness unto death–just one brought on by stupidity.

But since then, I have had to write on medical forms that I am allergic to aspirin, although I probably am not. Mostly, I discovered that I was allergic to stupidity.

Since then I have been taking acetaminophen for pain, weariness and aches. Honestly, I’m not so sure the product works as well as aspirin. I would refer to it as “aspirin light.” Or decaffeinated aspirin.

But it does help a little, and honestly, I was not particularly fond of my tummy bleed. So I will continue to take that product, even though, amazingly enough, it turns my poop green.

I do realize that at this point, that I have shared too much information. But if you don’t put personal notes into a blog every once in a while, it becomes stale and pedantic.

So hoping that you remember more about acetaminophen than my poop, I will close for now.