Sunday, June 8, 2014

Nature is killing me.

I love you, nice warm weather, but you are trying to kill me. 

Woke up with a sinus headache that felt like I'd been getting punched in the eyes by cement garden gnomes and kicked in the head by their friend, the little cement burro. 

To feel this bad on a Sunday morning used to take a lot of fun on Saturday night. 

On the other hand, I'm not in need of throwing up my intestines, so it's not an exact analogy. 

But it is so unfair. The weather is fantastic this weekend. A little warm for me, but after the winter we had, I'll take warm in spades. 

Then, POW, right in the sinuses. 

"Oh, life is like that," says the adult Ralphie narrating A Christmas Story. "Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at it's zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters descend upon us." 

But I can't stay mad at Nature---after all, you only get in trouble when you get on Mother Nature's bad side.


I'm more sore at the meth manufacturers whose perfidy put my precious pseudoephedrine behind the pharmacy counter. It's not that it's hard to get---you still don't need a prescription---but it sucks to stand in line when your head is lopsided and falling off from all the gnome punching. Damn you, drug fiends! Bad enough you kill people, destroy families, ruin lives, leave parents with no children and children with no parents---but you've also inconvenienced me! 

If only Mother Nature would strike down you and your little meth cookeries. But not just now---the thunder is more than I can handle.
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