Pollen, that is evil. My head feels like a water balloon being balanced on a toothpick...wait, that would pop the balloon, wouldn't it? What a dumb simile. It feels like...um...um...
There was an article in yesterday's Post about kids and cussing. To quote:
Horwich said constant use of profanity reveals a poor vocabulary, and O'Connor lamented the toll it is taking on the language."There are words virtually disappearing from our English language," O'Connor said. "When people are mad, what do they say? They say they are pissed off or [expletive] pissed off. No range. There is a big difference between being upset or livid. There is a big difference between irritated and infuriated."
My language is terrible, but I'm trying not to just resort to profanity for emphasis. So instead of saying I feel like shit, I'm trying to be descriptive and metaphoric, but it doesn't seem to work. Ah, screw it.
Anyway, the allergies are on top of a few other things that alone wouldn't call for a sick day, but after dragging myself out of bed at 5:45 and moping for half an hour, I decided to give up. I mean, if I'd gone to the office I'd have spent the whole day whining and making dumb mistakes because my head hurts so bad I can't see straight; that would be practically like stealing from the company, right? (Gimmie a minute and I can justify anything.)
I feel a little better now, with an extra three hours of sleep and drugs kicking in, but I can use the putter time. I need to organize seeds and dirt for the planting next weekend, I need to clean out the baking dish drawer under the stove (the new stove, or "range" as the kitchen guys call it, is being delivered Saturday), I can pay some bills, I can do some laundry.
(I'll be e-mailing work compulsively just to prove I didn't call in sick today to go biking.)
Oh, and a profanity-laden story:
When my niece (now 6, the first kid in the family) was a toddler, I happened to be at my sister's house the evening of a very frustrating day: we were having computer problems at work and didn't have access to e-mail, the Internet, or shared databases, making it both unproductive and devoid of plesant distractions for eight hours.
"They better have the fuckin' network fixed tomorrow," I grumbled.
"Nic!" hissed my sister, pointing to my niece.
"Oh, shit! Sor-" I replied, clamping my own hand over my mouth when I realized that I just could not stop swearing.
Victor taught my niece to say "Aunt Nic is a potty mouth," which didn't amuse me, but I could hardly dispute it.
Posted by Nic at April 13, 2005 11:41 AMLuckily for you, Daddy and Gramma and Uncle B also have potty mouths. The little sweetie blurted out a "damnit" not long ago, and sheepishly admitted that she heard it from Daddy. He sheepishly tried to explain to her that "sometimes Mommy and Daddy say things when they are angry, but those things are not for you to repeat."
There is a big difference between being upset or livid.
There is also a difference between "livid" and "[expletive deleted] livid".