My sinuses have declared a war on breathing.
It’s cold.
My head sort of aches, like I had more than Benadryl last night.
Tomorrow, I have to get my picture taken.
I have the feeling all these things combined will result in my having an ID badge to match my driver’s license picture — red poofy eyes, red nose, vaguely zombie-like expression, and a half-smile that translates roughly into “I hate digital cameras and I woke up two hours ago, meh.”
In other news, spammers keep sending me poetry. All of it looks like this:
You’ve Seen Them On TV…
GAIN 3 INCHES in size
Ask your wife - SIZE DOES MATTER!
http://asagfuib.com/mxl/
suspects; he himself as Fred the effective
than dampen it. But almost have
Shades of e.e. cummings, with a touch of assumption — if I have a wife, I’ve certainly never seen her, and I’d want to, if only to ask why the #$!! she hasn’t done her share of the cleaning. And the last thing I need is an extra 3 inches anywhere. I can’t find decent shoes, my clothes barely fit any more, and good grief, look, I need a haircut again.
What?
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