weofodthignen: a pumpkin puking its guts out down some steps (barf)
( Jan. 29th, 2017 05:13 am)
The dog got into the trash, and next day I found a prodigious vomit in the corner of the living room: wadded-up plastic and a hairball worthy of a cat. I'm glad he managed to get all that out.
I spent most of my "weekend" in an antibiotic-induced haze, thanks to the dentist. The rain finally ended—not that we don't need all we can get—and pretty sunshine arrived.
More pretty sun, but cold in the morning. The dog is not sure what to make of the frosty grass.
It was 32 degrees when I got home, even colder than Friday morning. Everybody at work seems to be getting sick: on Thursday night, I found the janitor working the previous shift because the staffer had called in, and she was still in bad shape 24 hours later. Customers are coughing in my face and sneezing all over the lingerie racks. We drove to San Jose to return library books and most of the other drivers seem to have been infected with a brain plague.
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