I’m cursed. It’s an old curse carried by those who try to remedy things and suffer the consequences. The curse reared its ugly head on Thursday. My right hand began to itch something awful. I scratched it to the point of tearing skin. Relief was fleeting. It spread to other parts of my hand and wrist. I scratched until the hand was sore. I added hydrocortisone cream to the shopping list. The potential itch drove me to the supermarket on Friday. I found the cream on my way out. It was on the bottom of the list with frozen sausage. I bought the store brand because there didn’t seem to be much difference between the name brand and the store brand and it was a buck cheaper. I took it home and left it on the coffee table in anticipation of another outbreak. It came. My hand erupted and I scratrched then applied the cream. It took a while but it worked. The itch was gone. I washed it off later that night and went to bed. Saturday morning I began to feel an itchy uprising. Cream in hand I waited. A twinge warned of another outbreak. Nothing came. As the day wore on, my hand refused to itch. It was defiant. It became irritated from the excessive scratching but didn’t itch. Not Saturday nor Sunday into today. The curse? I b ought a remedy for a condition and it got one use destined to occupy space as a reminder of the fact that the minute I get the idea to take care of a problem with a long-term solution the problem fades and I’m left with the solution. I like spinach. Washing it and drying it are a necessary pain in the ass. I bought a salad spinner. I used it once and now it sits on the kitchen table moving onlt when it comes too near the edge of the table. I have cheesecloth. I needed it for a recipe that has faded into the mists of meals past. Parchment? Bought it to bake cookies before I discovered silicon mats. I bought a box of those pieces of paper the butcher puts between hamburger patties. It sits in the drawer next to the Saran wrap and aluminum foil. I bought an ice cream disher to help in portioning cookie dough. Diet rules kickedm in and home made cookies are on the forbidden list. I’ve got a digital scale. I used to portion out my meals. The battery went dead and the replacement drove the scale insane. It shares space with the salad spinner. I know what you’re thinking, ” The fool should donate all the extra kitchen appliances to Goodwill and be done with them. There’s the rub. The minute the item leaves my possession I’ll need it. It happens that way. I bought an oil change kit. I was into home maintanence at the time. Changes in cars brought me a service contract that included oil changes. Being paranoid about voiding warranties, I began having oil changes done at the dealer. The oil change kit took up space in the garage first, then in the cellar. A friend needed to borrow it and I said “Why not?” My service contract expired and the friendly dealer offered me another at what I though were unfair prices. My friend by then had lent the kit to his brother who lent it to his b uddy who lost it. Untrustworthy friends? No. The curse. If I’d have been a rotten friend and told mine to invest the money in an oil change kit. The service contract would’ve been renewed and I would be the owner of an oil change kit that job security. I’d never get rid of it because I wouldn’t use it and it would pass the time on a shelf gathering dust. I’ve got anti-gas pills, anti-diarrheal pills and pain meds from a dental appointment. They all spend time together, probably wondering what they’re doing in a box in an end table drawer. All this typing has brought the beginnings of an itch in my left thumb. Now it’s moved back to my right hand. Maybe the curse will be broken. Probably not.

Have any of you watched Brad Meltzer’s Decoded? It’s on the History Channel and History 2. It follows the adventure of three educated people; a lawyer, an engineer and a teacher sent out by Mr. Meltzer to uncover mysteries. I watch the show even though I cringe at the obvious questions they ask and their ambiguous conclusions. If they had to investigate the Lincoln assassination they’d find at least five people who will swear they has undiccovered evidence that Booth was in Islip Long Island during the commission of the deed and the alleged murderer was a clone planted by Union extraterrestrials. And the investigators will listen and nod their heads. Mr. Meltzer will wrap it up with a few words that imply a bigger conspiracy. And I’ll listen, waiting for the next foray into the unknown.

Listened to a new set of Jack Benny radio show transcripts. The back-up is suggested by a blogger who recommended Jeeves and Wooster. It seems perfect. I listened to Three Men In A Boat by Jerome P. Jerome and have been introduced to the British upper class twit. I watched the PBS series with Frye and Laurie and was hooked. Wooster is an example of the fact money can’t buy brains and those that serve are a lot wiser than they’re given credit for.

Deport Donald Trump. Support your local food bank. Read to a kid or a senior. think about or visit your parents. Be nice to someone you don’t like.

See you on Wednesday.