The honeymoon of unemployment is over, just like that. Today we had to cancel our trip. Unless I get a sudden perfect job offer by Thursday [hear that, Universe?], we are not going to be able to go. So much for relaxation and taking it a little easy, giving it time.
Tip is so done with his antibiotics. Today the tummy rejected its last pill and after he coughed that up onto the rug, he proceeded to Puke. Twelve. Times. On. The. Rug. By that I mean T-W-E-L-V-E--T-I-M-E-S. I have the rug burns from cleaning puke to prove it. Needless to say, we are done with the course of antibiotics.
And I have a white hair standing defiantly on top of my head, pointing straight up (as if back arched, heels dug in), right there in the rift of my part. "You are aging, damnit, whether you like it or not. You can pull me out, but I'll be back."
You can't fight time.
Ally
2 comments:
And the saddest news of all . . . when the white hair comes back . . . it always brings a friend.
ha ha ha - that made me laugh (or cry...either way...)
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