Eyeballs sore and itchy. Hate these seasonal allergies. New glasses pretty fabulous, however.
Spouse was sick today, but apparently it's not the plague since he's still capable of walking and eating some soup and toast. The flu may have bypassed us for now.
Gotta get up unpleasantly early tomorrow to go to a baby shower. That's just not right on a weekend, you know. Baby showers should be scheduled for 8pm, so I can sleep in and still get to Connecticut in time. Just keep that in mind when you invite me to one, oh legions.
Speaking of baby showers, you may recall my extensive rant on the doggerel associated with the invitation to one. Just because I happened to think of it the other day, I would like to share a bit of dreadful verse I myself wrote in my youth.
My sister and I had decided that our deity would be a silk flower that had been pinned to one of the bedroom curtains, and I composed this moving hymn:
Oh flower on the curtain,
Hear my prayer to thee.
Oh flower on the curtain,
Listen please to me.
Oh hear my faithful prayer,
That I am praying now--
Oh flower if you care,
Oh hear my earnest prayer,
And how! And how!
Oh yeah, that's magic. I mean doggerel. Many 17-year-olds write florid love poetry, you know.
I think in some way that excuses this.
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