and another shift of the sands of time...
and my loveable load of loveables is growing by the boy...
boys boys boys and a few more boys.
This mix could be one of the oddest yet.
Cocky.... immature braggarts.
Last week I was in a van with one who reeked of "boy"... (if you have a
brother or a son, you know exactly the "reek" I am referring to)... he
chattered incessantly about the proper way to "jump railroad tracks"...
and about the self-done (quite infected) "Bomb" tattoo that covers most
of his hand....
"It's not really all that important" he says.
"The tattoo, or the health and future of your hand?" I ask...
and roll my eyes and grit my teeth
some days I really do not like these children...
I chalk my crabbiness up to a mancold that I've been valiantly battling for almost 10 days...
(the mancold has so been so fierce that it forced me to wake (at 3am) a very, very
sleepy Daddio for a ride to the ER a couple of nights ago...
there, they made me a Priority Two... in other words, a lack of oxygen
is really, truly no big deal... next time, I swear I vow to plunge a
screwdriver directly into my nasal cavity and hopefully... oh never
mind, I'm just being dramatic...)
I can proudly say that I only missed one day of work...
But I should have stayed home yesterday too....
No one likes to be nicknamed Typhoid Mary...
xoxo...cough cough sniffle sniffle
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Some bloggers write "gimme me some love".... as far as I'm concerned, I'd love some love, but I'd even take some hate, some expressions of your disgust, your outrage, mild irritation, sheer joy...whatever, I can take it, honestly I can. Just please (please) leave a comment or two and let me know what you think. Merci.