which is to say, good morning! I assume that the internet does not lie to me when it tells me how to say "good morning" in Swedish (or any other language, for that matter). In the event that McCain wins the election, I may be moving to Europe, or possibly Canada or somewhere in middle America. Sweden sounds pretty appealing, though, just as long as I can learn the language. Which I am not attempting at this point. I'll let you know when/if i get serious about it. For real, though. Socialism is fine with me.
Anyway. So today is my second-day-in-a-row off. Yesterday wasn't much fun because of allergies, probably. I had slept with my contacts in, and when I woke up my left eye was very irritated. I took the contacts out, of course, and tried to go back to sleep to let my eye relax. It didn't help. The poor eye was swollen and watering all day yesterday. I could barely keep it open sometimes (which was worrisome as I had to drive to Bongo Java East for a coffee training session). (By the way, I learned how to make heart-shaped latte art. I'll be practicing at work all day tomorrow.)
So many rabbit-trails. My sinuses were also clogged all day yesterday. It wasn't much fun. Towards the end of the day, I developed a pretty big headache. I took some kind of PM cold medication (hoping it'd help with the congestion), some Ibuprofen, then went to bed. Now I'm feeling fine (though, apparently it's going to be a month or so before I'll stop waking up with a smoker's cough).
Here's my tentative plan for today. I'm going to get up soon (it's 8:22 right now) and go to Provence to get some reading out of the way. When I've read to my heart's content, I'll probably come back here and do some laundry, finish cleaning the kitchen, etc. We have lots of beer int he fridge...I'll probably consume a bunch of those throughout the day. Maybe. We'll see. I mean, as long as I'm productive in the first part of the day, it'll be fine.
Anyway. Oh my. Time to get up...?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
What's in My Journal (by William Stafford)
Odd things, like a button drawer. Mean
things, fishhooks, barbs in your hand.
But marbles too. A genius for being agreeable.
Junkyard crucifixes, voluptuous
discards. Space for knickknacks, and for
Alaska. Evidence to hang me, or to beautify.
Clues that lead nowhere, that never connected
anyway. Deliberate obfuscation, the kind
that takes genius. Chasms in character.
Loud omissions. Mornings that yawn above
a new grave. Pages you know exist
but you can't f ind them. Somebody's terribly
inevitable life story, maybe mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment