OK sorry I was going to start with something else but I have to say this. My cellmate's husband was just being a condescending asshole to the cleaning lady. Do not go there, man. That woman tries to maintain some standard of cleanliness in a room containing your odoriferous wife. All I need is for you to alienate my best friend in this shithole. In the interest of keeping this entry relatively free of profanity I will change the subject.
So the mustard gas. Apparently it's got a maximum toxicity at about 7-10 days. So here I've been anticipating the nasty delayed side effects, just dreading the weekend because I would be barfing and worse all over the place, fever, shaking, delirium, begging them to just let me die. And NOTHING! I know I'm lucky. I mean, not 100% because my poor little Tin-tin hair has started to get that characteristic tingly feel so Gollum will be back but oh well. Like I said, just tell me it'll be worth it and screw the hair, but you can't do that, can you?
So here's how I am re-orientating (as the Brits would say) my thinking. (And no, I still haven't learned my lesson about the direct relationship between anticipation and disappointment.) As long as I can avoid getting so much as a cold for the next several days, my stem cells will have a chance to graft and start producing whites and that'll be it. Finito. Smooth sailing. A bit optimistic? Perhaps.
God, I love diesi. THE best radio station.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment