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Elmo In My Throat

Okay, that title is a pretty obscure reference.  The right one would be a “Tickle” in my throat. Get it?  Tickle (my throat) Elmo?

Ahem.

Yes, I still have a completely warped and non-sequitur sense of the absurd.

I also unfortunately have the early components of the creeping crud, thanks to hubby and daughter.  Gah!  I’m drowning myself in the oregano oil in hopes of staving off the worst of the bug.  I was so happy that so far I’ve avoided the annual bug invasion, and then today it’s begun sniffing around my heels.  Here’s hoping it just sniffs a moment before moving on.  Yeesh.

Thank God the weekend is over.  I’m exhausted and most assuredly don’t feel like working tomorrow.  However, home was a fiasco that culminated at o’dark thirty last night with our water heater hissing at us.  And not prettily, like our own darling Miss Hiss.  And technically speaking it wasn’t the water heater. It was a nifty pressure-fed hole in the water line into the water heater, in a spot that preceded the shutoff valve.  By the time someone arrived to fix it, we also had a few gallons of water in the living room carpet.

Just what a bunch of respiratory-challenged yokels need: a few buckets of carpet mold in the making.

Work was less than fun too.  No surprise given my propensity for gasping for breath, hacking and wheezing with the incoming bout of whatever it is.  Throw in a few horrendous calls (my manager, bless her heart, was monitoring a couple of them and shook her head along with me.)  To lift a quote from one of my friends in the Great White North (that’s Canada, not the Mason-Dixon line,) “Stupid should hurt.”

Then again, there are plenty of instances when stupid DOES hurt and it’s nonetheless rampant.

I really have to make this short tonight.  Work comes early tomorrow and I have to get up and wash dishes.  G finally gave up and collapsed in bed tonight at about 5-ish and has barely budged since.

One thing is certain.  When we do get our own place, there will not be one inch of carpet that can’t be picked up and tossed into a washer (or at least rolled up and taken to the dry cleaners.)  Wall-to-wall carpet is horrendous for the crud it collects and keeps in its fibers.

There’s more to say but I really, REALLY need to call it a night.  G and my daughter are absolutely miserable as can be, and since they elected to share the wealth I’m thinking I should grab some shuteye while I can.

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