Shame And More Shame

I woke up super late yesterday, approximately twenty minutes after I normally leave the apartment to go catch the bus, but it was just as well. My left tonsil felt like it filled half my throat, and each swallow shot pain right up into my ear. Instead of calling in late, I called in sick, because aside from my tonsil thing, my limbs were shaking as though I was really weak and had limited motor control. I ended up sleeping on and off for most of the day and went to bed last night at 8:30 pm. I am so rock ‘n’ roll.

Actually, today, one of my bosses noticed how many earrings I have in my head (seven usually, and sometimes nine) and asked me if I used to be punk when I was younger. I am such a dork that I spontaneously answered “a little bit Vivaldi, a little bit rock ‘n’ roll”. That one goes down in my personal Hall Of Shame. Vivaldi?

Which brings me to another topic. I have been feeling really under the weather for the past couple of weeks. Muscle weakness, headaches, fluttering heart sensations, occasional nausea, and irregular and unpredictable bowels. I haven’t felt bad enough to be properly sick for the most part, but it’s been enough to be annoying.

On Thursday, I started feeling some abdominal cramps, which was expected, because I was due for my period on Monday, and I usually start feeling it a few days before. They came and went and came and went, and then nothing happened. I am fairly regular, so when nothing happened on Monday, I was a little concerned. Then nothing happened on Tuesday or Wednesday, and by this morning I was starting to think holy fucking shit, I could be knocked up. The ill feelings combined with an unusually late period had me a little preoccupied.

The Fiery One called me this afternoon, and I just couldn’t keep my worry to myself. A couple of my co-workers were in the office with me, so I turned away, put my hand up to shield what I was saying, and whispered I’m late and I’ve been under the weather. He was quiet for a second, and then quickly recovered and offered that maybe our celebrations upon his return would have to be a little different than planned. What a guy. No huge panic, no wavering voice, just a celebration plan shift from boozing it up to baby bootie knitting.

How does this relate to the previous Hall of Shame paragraph? Well, the Fiery One is way far away in Belgium right now thinking that his wifey-poo might be knocked up, but guess what happened to the wifey-poo a mere hour-and-a-half after the phone call? Aunt Dot, Big Red, Dracula’s tea bag, Miss Scarlett, Old Faithful, Red Beard’s toothpaste, the Cardinal (go to Aunt Flow’s for more stupid euphemisms) came to visit. So now I’m all relieved and can go about my obnoxiously self-involved life as I am wont to do, but the Fiery One will have no clue until he either calls me again or reads this entry. He may end up wandering around Europe for the next two days pondering the possibility of daddyhood. I may be pure evil. At least I’m not spawning pure evil.*

*Not that spawning is bad. The Fiery One and I will do that at some point, hopefully, but not right now. The prospect of squeezing out a sprog seems like a better and better idea with each passing year, so if it did happen accidentally along the way, neither of us would be in the least bit devastated.

Poet, Sylvia Plath
– Sylvia Plath, 28 January 1963

Your clear eye is the one absolutely beautiful thing.
I want to fill it with color and ducks,
The zoo of the new

Whose names you meditate –
April snowdrop, Indian pipe,

Stalk without wrinkle,
Pool in which images
Should be grand and classical

Not this troublous
Wringing of hands, this dark
Ceiling without a star.

109 Italian soldiers have died from exposure to depleted uranium.

The Prime Minister of Lebanon has resigned following a widely opposed constitutional change to keep the president in office.

This just takes spam too far.

I love the idea of the TV-B-Gone.

Africa is struggling to contain its worst locust swarm since the 1980s.

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