If Daphne were just a little bit bigger, she'd make an excellent pillow... but I'm afraid to crush her with my head, so I will have to suck it up and use a real pillow.
"An evil spirit returns from the dead... and innocent victims... face his revenge..." Have you ever heard anything so asinine? Innocent victims cannot 'face revenge', because revenge means these people would have had to have done something to warrant the actions taken against them, and then they wouldn't be innocent victims, they'd just be victims... They can face his wrath, his misplaced anger, his malevolence... but not his revenge. Who writes this crap? Oh yeah... SyFy...
While still not up to par, I am much improved today... as I said on my Facebook page... "Eh is better than bleh." Still mostly feel alright until I eat, and then it's me with my fingers crossed, hoping for the best. Today we went to the world's best barbecue restaurant... and I had a baked potato... not a barbecue baked potato... just a baked potato. It was almost painful to go there, smell it... almost taste it... but not be able to eat it. But I figured a potato would be easier on the digestive system than a potato with a ginormous scoop of greasy shredded pork on top of it... because to be honest, even when I'm not in gastrointestinal distress, it sometimes upsets my tum-tum. Normally I'd be all 'stomach upset be damned!' but I'm trying to be realistic here... I'm tired of feeling poorly... I want a good day...
We watched Julie & Julia this afternoon. It was really good. I'm a foodie, so I figured I would like it. Meryl Streep did an amaaaaaaaaaazing job... if I hadn't known it was her I would have thought it was Julia herself. Anyway, it made me hungry for Bouf Bourguignon, or as I like to call it (in a Mississippi drawl...) Beef Bur-gun-yun. I love to cook, and a dish like that is high payoff... not much prep... lots of flavor... I don't know why I don't cook more often... guess I just get hungry as soon as I get home and want the most expedient thing. That, and I would have a ton of leftovers.
I keep forgetting to mention the garbage men... When I woke up Friday it was raining sooooooooooo hard... it was like my house had been shrunk down so that it would fit under the faucet of the bathtub, and then the water was turned on full blast. And as I was talking to my boss on the phone, there was a crack of thunder so loud it had to have been directly above me...
But the garbage truck never stopped moving... those stupid *ahem* intrepid garbage men soldiered on.
I still don't like them. But I respect them -- they will do anything to get to my house before I put the garbage out, even weather a storm. A worthy adversary. Well played garbage men... well played.
So my parent's neighbor went to the emergency room this morning, suffering from symptoms very similar to the ones we had. Have to admit, a little part of me perked up to hear that BECAUSE they might tell him what he had and then we'd know what we had -- NOT because I want him to be sick or visit the ER. Long story short... he failed us... he has kidney stones. So we still don't have a name for it. Well... I do... I'm sticking with "The Jillian."
Speaking of Jillian, went back to level 2 tonight. What is this? Day 12? Or do I have to start over now? There were some modifications, but I made it all the way through (does it count as cheating if I skipped the stretches at the end?).
Also realized something... I said it before in a slightly different way, but the dots didn't connect. People tell me I analyze everything... that I think too much... I've already discussed how a billion thoughts explode in my head at the same time, but saying each one of them out loud to someone makes it seem as if I spent hours stewing over something... But what I am realizing is that the reason I think of all these different scenarios in the first place is because... I'm a writer... all I'm doing is coming up with my own choose your own adventure novel when I create these scenarios (I really liked those books...). When I am presented with a problem, it's like I'm standing in the middle of a junction of infinite possibilities... I finally realized it when I told my dad that when the shit hits the fan, I might set up camp in a graveyard... sometimes there's shelter (crypts), they're often near water, the older ones generally have trees, and not a lot of people will be thinking about a graveyard (well... maybe 51 other people will now), so it probably won't be ravaged and it might even be safe. Dad furrowed his brow and said not to get too concerned about it. I told him I'm not, but all these things I'm reading and learning have got me thinking about what I would do if I were faced with it, and that has got a story playing itself out in my head. That's when I really realized why I'm so analytical... as a writer, I have to be. If I weren't, there would be no story.
Oh, and P.S. the house next door finally sold.
P.P.S. Ian, it's 42F now. That's what is so irritating... all these 20-30 degree shifts play havoc with the immune system (and I never know what to wear). I know... cry me a river...
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