BUT WE DON’T KNOW WHERE WE’VE BEEN
AND WE KNOW WHAT WE’RE KNOWIN’
BUT WE CAN’T SAY WHAT WE’VE SEEN
AND WE’RE NOT LITTLE CHILDREN
AND WE KNOW WHAT WE WANT
AND THE FUTURE IS CERTAIN
GIVE US TIME TO WORK IT OUT
We’re on a road to nowhere
Come on inside
Takin’ that ride to nowhere
We’ll take that ride
I really need to fill in my music collection with some Talking Heads. They are notably missing from my current catalogue of possessions.
Haven’t felt much like DD recently. I’ve been tooling around over at the Community forums a bit, but I’ve been letting the updates slip a bit, and I’m way behind on my diary reading. I don’t even have a good excuse. I’ve just been too tired to bother with much of anything this week. I mostly feel like I’m spinning my wheels at the moment, which probably means I should let up on the gas a bit until I get some traction.
I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with a cold, or some other snuffles-like malady. I’ve got nose dribbles, I get the swallows at night, and I’m perpetually exhausted. I have also been smelling a “garbagy” odor at odd times, which I often do a few days before major cold symptoms set in. I wish there were some way of putting off/cutting off the cold, but I’m already on the usual vitamin supplements, and I shouldn’t be taking anything additional without express permission from the nice people at the transplant center.
These are the same nice people who have yet to get around to telling me the results of my blood testing from Tuesday, the 23rd of March. I hold slim hope of talking to anyone about my nascent cold.
Well perhaps I’m making too much of this. With luck, this won’t even turn into anything at all.
The Grey Menace has been BANNED from the bedroom when The Socialist is in bed. Her foot padding to find a comfortable place to settle drives my favorite Socialist nuts, and keeps him awake. This isn’t a huge hardship for either G.M. or myself, since the earliest The Socialist tends to retire is 3:00 a.m., and he often doesn’t get around to getting to bed until closer to 4 a.m. She stands guard quietly outside the door until 5:30 or 6:00 – I get up at six anyhow, so I can be sure that if the electricity goes out I’ll still have a back-up wake-up call.
She’s seldom hungry for breakfast (a scant quarter cup of food), and usually follows me around as I tend to my morning chores. I eat my shredded wheat, and she’s at my feet. I make my coffee, and she’s trying to jump on the counter to get a better look. I do a quick check of overnight emails, and she’s on the windowsill behind me. When I return to the bedroom to change into some clothes, she’s again on the wrong side of the door. She’s learned that wailing about it only earns her some major squirts from the water bottle, but she’ll press her face against the 2+-inch gap at the bottom of the bedroom door and watch my every move. I’m hoping to get a picture of it, but every time I’ve tried so far, she backs away from the door. I fear The Socialist and I have been very successful with that water bottle.
I’ve had some limited luck rounding up sponsors for a walk to benefit organ donation awareness I’m planning to do. Since I only announced my intent to participate two days ago, I’m hopeful I’ll do fairly well. I’ve had a couple unexpected but much appreciated offers that I’ll need to get back to a few people on so they know how to find me.