I've ingested some Theraflu Nightime (or is it Nighttime/Nightime Theraflu? I worry everytime I encounter a doubtful usage as I want to seem all smart and shit) and my brain is demanding expression.
My husband got a Harley. He, in exchange, gave me his sinus infection/crud. The fucking thing doesn't even have a two-up seat yet so he can't give me a ride to avoid The Harpy Syndrome.
Yesterday I put on a pair of jeans and my brain was all mad, "Who washed these damned things and shrunk them? Goddamn it, I can't have ANYTHING nice..." I realized a moment later that I wash all the clothes and the jeans hadn't shrunk. My chin(s) hit my chest and a small tear fell. I then wanted to kick a cat but didn't.
I ate a bowl of cake with berries and real whipped cream after a lunch of scalloped potatoes. Because I am SICK, people. Shit do NOT judge me.
Still in my PJs. Laura Ashley if you must know so I look like grandma's sofa. Except I never knew my grandma so you'll have to just use your own.
Thinking about a shower. Really should because this Theraflu is like Niquil (sp?) Lite - you tend to fall where you took it and wake with your spittle dried to the surface and stuck like a bug. And I don't want to fall in the shower because my mom once told me she dreamed I was dead in the bathtub. I do not fuck around in the tub.
I am a completely spoiled brat at work. As in not having to. I fully expect a pink slip any day because of it. People must HATE me. I feel bad sometimes about it. Then go surf the next blog.
My SUV seems to be "pinin' for the fjords". At least the 2nd gear is. I love that thing. I do NOT want another one, I do not want to pay a car payment or higher insurance. I want my damned SUV back. If I want to put a new engine in the Beloved I WILL. Even if it does mean an ever-escalating number of failures and fixes. The dog does not fit in the back seat of the Trooper's truck. No amount of smiling kindly while revving the motorcycle will ameliorate that fact.
I may have meant alleviate there - not sure. Closing in on the drowning hour...
I would trade Beloved for a really good price on an Excursion in a heartbeat. My love is fickle.
When I had to yank out all the old bluebonnet plants yesterday in the front bed I felt like it was sacrilege. The ant bites seemed a reasonable price to pay. It also reminded me to get the Chem Team out here to kill anything with more than 4 legs.
My SIL gave us their home Flavia system. I am so thrilled. I wish they made a Theraflu sachet.
OK. May be skipping the whole shower thing. The medicine sank through the tater layer rather faster than expected.