Well...we did the family bondage five days early, and I've been slaving over a hot blood bank ever since, so that's my excuse du jour for not blogging. Kwachie's excuse? Not as good as mine. :-) She made some breads and soups, read some books, and did some other things that people who get time off their jobs get to do.
However...the tables will turn again, as tables are wont to do. After a five day stretch of virtuous life-saving, I'll get a long weekend of my own to fritter away. And then we'll all be sorry.
My goal is to engage in that time-honored tradition of us Rural Assholes: setting shit on fire. We've got a conflagration's worth of leaves and sticks to burn. A veritable Armageddon of twigs in the backyard, shading the lawn's piteous attempts to photosynthesize. Tragic, eh?
Unfortunately, the Long Weekend Gods are smiling on Kwachie, but not so much on me. She's got temperatures in the upper '60's for hers, I get forecasts of snow. SNOW?? Maybe it's time to sacrifice a small flatulent kitty cat to the Long Weekend Gods.
But now it's time to get showered up for work. I'm hoping the conga line of people with sore bellies coming through the ER will taper off today. Maybe, like the drive-thru flu shot line, we ought to offer curbside Imodium therapy, with a set of special lanes for people who need a little more intervention...amylases and lipases on the left, stool cultures on the right and brittle diabetics who ate the pie anyway right up the middle.
Ev
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2 comments:
I have a flatulent cat or two that I could sacrifice to your cause.
Oh, by the way...
My cats refuse to eat turkey.
GAY!!!
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