Thursday, December 12, 2002

CD: Shel Silverstein, various mix CDs

I knew it would happen. Yesterday I wrote about attempting to clean my house despite the adversity posed by my allergies. Today I fought the law, and the law won. But I still succeeded! I cleaned that pesky room, or at least put everything in that room in a manageable place (empty closets are wonderful). Meanwhile, the entire time I was doing this I sneezed and dripped and lost more bodily fluids than I can remember ever intaking within the last two days. So I went to dinner suffering with a sporadic bloody nose; so what? What surprises me more is not the level of the inevitable but the discoveries uncovered. Like, I had no idea we kept enough styrofoam in that room to fill an oil drum. Or enough cardboard products to, well, fill up another oil drum. So I'd like to invite everyone over to an oil drum fire at my place. We'll be making s'mores, dude. You gotta come if there are s'mores!

"You should send ME to space, and then I can run for President of the Moon!" --Rev. Al Sharpton on MTV

No comments: