I hate it when my mood doesn’t match the weather. It’s clear and blue for the first day in a week and I’m simply not interested in cheering up. Of course, I wasn’t much better when it was wet outside either.
My White Whine for the day: for the first time in my life I make too much money to receive the White House’s economic incentive package.
There are far worse things to happen to a person, I realize.
What I thought was a pimple yesterday turned into little raised bumps all over by the end of the evening. Yay for skin rashes! I’ve gotten these before so I’m not apt to panic about them, but it does mean taking the bright pink antihistamines. Which leads to uncontrolled napping. Which is generally frowned on at work.
Of course, the morning I have splotchy, red skin is the day they want to take a photo of the Marketing team. It’s been a bad day. Please don’t take a picture.
But an intellectual query posed by a friend—do white people get hives more often than black people?—lead me to try a simple search for “African-American and hives.” Didn’t find the answer. Mostly I got a lot of results about bees.
So maybe these aren’t hives…maybe it’s yellow fever. Who can say.
Maybe I’ll go home and play Super Mario Galaxy and listen to some indie rock until I pass out.
I have been fighting off the cold that everyone in the office has already had. Naturally I’m convinced that I’m dying.
“I’m sick. I think I’ve got Flesh Eating Bacteria.”
“Where on earth would you get that from?”
“Well…I used a public toilet today!”
“And were you rubbing up against a lot of gay guys there?”
“No. But there was that party on Saturday. It was a narrow hallway. Even if we were all clothed at the time…”
You know you’re fat when you’re diagnosed with flesh eating bacteria and the doctor gives you forty years to live.
Having Natto in the morning guarantees that the worst thing that could happen to you all day already has.
No, I don’t really believe that. I actually rather like the stuff. But I have no idea if it’s possible to eat it without getting strings of sticky fermented soybean all over your face and shirt.
It was a bad morning already; I was late for an 8:30 AM meeting, so I ran, pushing aside old women, and marched into the conference room 5 minutes late, dripping with sweat…to discover that someone had rescheduled the meeting in an email sent at 8:20AM. I figured it was a sign, so I went to Cafe Tomo for the Natto breakfast.
I’ve read that it’s not so popular outside of Tokyo, so I feel vaguely yet appropriately urban ordering it. But while I love to feel metropolitan, there’s no point in subjecting yourself to this if you don’t actually enjoy the flavor.
Or the odor. The fan is on, the to-go container is in the kitchen trash, and I think I should go brush my teeth before the rescheduled meeting. Of course, it’s also their fault that I had natto this morning…
Old houses are a bit unnerving during big storms. There are constant rattles and occasional booms and crashes. It sounds like the upstairs neighbors are jumping on their floor, even though I know they’ve gone off to work. I can see where people would spend a night in the place and think the place is haunted.
I’d make jokes about the Big Bad Wolf outside, but I realize the house is actually made out of wood…