So, I’m fucking sick again.
I actually haven’t been sick for a couple months now, so I guess I shouldn’t complain. Since “shouldn’t” has never been a convincing argument to me, especially when it comes to complaining, let’s just skip right over that part, OK?
I’m fucking sick again, and I’m fucking sick and tired of it. I’m so sick and tired of it, that I’m cursing. Which is hardly ever convincing. Because deep within my soul, where most people have a big black Baptist church lady who sings the blues, or else a pale gray disapproving version of their parents, I have Katharine Hepburn and Lucille Ball, locked in a eternal dorky missish struggle for control of my mannered mincing little self. So no swearing, most of the time. I’m not good at it.
Complaining, now. There’s something I’m good at.
Oh! In cheerier news. I just got this:
Please register your bets as to how long it will take for me to figure out how to make it work, and bear in mind that I frequently burn myself on the toaster oven and didn’t use e-mail until 1998.