Life in the pits
I woke up at 5:30 this morning to the sound of my father looking for his mini garage door opener. It's been missing for several days; he eventually found it in his backpack. Anyway, I couldn't fall back asleep and stayed up watching Little House on the Prairie. I was fine until 7:30, when all of a sudden nausea kicked in. As in, holy crap, I'd better go stand by the toilet just in case. Luckily my new streak is still intact, but I've spent the day taking naps and being slightly nauseous, though the nausea stopped when I finally ate something at ten. Strange.
The pit hasn't gone anywhere. Well, at least part of it hasn't. It's just below my ribcage, so there's some gentle pressure there, and if I slouch, the underwire of my bra hits it too, resulting in further discomfort. I'm thinking it's split into at least two pieces, as I keep feeling other weird stuff going on. My parents keep telling me to eat high-fiber foods, like I haven't already. Dad said I should get prunes. Yes, because I really want something else from the plum family. His response? "Unlike you, they're pitted." Thanks. Thanks a lot. Now let me show you my Red Forman impression and put my foot in your ass. Then he got out the Pepsi and it made me think of how Coca-Cola is known to remove rust from objects--I should get a can of Coke! That'll dissolve the pit! Either that, or eat away the lining of my stomach, but whatever. (For the record, I cannot stand Coke. Long before I knew of its unhealthful attributes, I could feel it eating away the lining of my teeth. But desperate times may call for desperate measures.)
In other news: Okay, you dumbass solicitors, we had hail about a month ago. Stop coming around asking if you could give us a "free home inspection." We have no damage, and you're coming late to the game. Seriously, at least once a week we get at least one company ringing the doorbell and one flier from another company. Today, I saw a familiar black truck parked across the street as I was heading upstairs to the bathroom; a minute later, the doorbell rang. That's the third time this same company has come to our house! Holy crap, go away! It's sad when you actually recognize the vehicle they use because they've been around so much.
Also: I started going through my inbox to get rid of old letters. I don't actually delete them, per se; I just save them elsewhere. I hate keeping them online for some reason, and putting them on the external hard drive means I can get to them even when I can't get online. Being the neat packrat that I am, I've also started sorting through them differently. I used to have them sorted by year, and then divided up within that year by who sent what; now, I'm sorting by person and then by year. This seems better to me. I know, I'm a dork. But it's interesting years later to go through and reread some of those old letters. Part of me almost wants to start a journal to put them into, but that could be dangerous.
The pit hasn't gone anywhere. Well, at least part of it hasn't. It's just below my ribcage, so there's some gentle pressure there, and if I slouch, the underwire of my bra hits it too, resulting in further discomfort. I'm thinking it's split into at least two pieces, as I keep feeling other weird stuff going on. My parents keep telling me to eat high-fiber foods, like I haven't already. Dad said I should get prunes. Yes, because I really want something else from the plum family. His response? "Unlike you, they're pitted." Thanks. Thanks a lot. Now let me show you my Red Forman impression and put my foot in your ass. Then he got out the Pepsi and it made me think of how Coca-Cola is known to remove rust from objects--I should get a can of Coke! That'll dissolve the pit! Either that, or eat away the lining of my stomach, but whatever. (For the record, I cannot stand Coke. Long before I knew of its unhealthful attributes, I could feel it eating away the lining of my teeth. But desperate times may call for desperate measures.)
In other news: Okay, you dumbass solicitors, we had hail about a month ago. Stop coming around asking if you could give us a "free home inspection." We have no damage, and you're coming late to the game. Seriously, at least once a week we get at least one company ringing the doorbell and one flier from another company. Today, I saw a familiar black truck parked across the street as I was heading upstairs to the bathroom; a minute later, the doorbell rang. That's the third time this same company has come to our house! Holy crap, go away! It's sad when you actually recognize the vehicle they use because they've been around so much.
Also: I started going through my inbox to get rid of old letters. I don't actually delete them, per se; I just save them elsewhere. I hate keeping them online for some reason, and putting them on the external hard drive means I can get to them even when I can't get online. Being the neat packrat that I am, I've also started sorting through them differently. I used to have them sorted by year, and then divided up within that year by who sent what; now, I'm sorting by person and then by year. This seems better to me. I know, I'm a dork. But it's interesting years later to go through and reread some of those old letters. Part of me almost wants to start a journal to put them into, but that could be dangerous.