The whooping hacking cough started during orientation for my new job, so that I could be remembered as Typhoid Mary. It never quite went away after a 7-day program of antibiotics and resurged last Thursday, with a fever.
It's gradually coming under control with antibiotics and steroids to reduce the lung inflammation. I'm tired and cranky.
Why must I be plagued with Ken and Barbie surfer dudes and former cheerleaders giving the news? I teach these children in college and know they can't use commas correctly, have no idea that irony is not the same as coincidence, and should not be trusted to report on anything serious or minor, including the weather. They care about their hair, clothing, cars, and who they are going to marry, in varying order.
Why is everything so darn hard and expensive? I was thrilled to get the Sharp monster stereo and quickly followed with purchase of a Sirius satellite receiver and home dock to listen to jazz and other good stuff. But the reception is spotty, and wires are dangling all over the apartment. It's like living in a power grid. I'm going to have to buy a stronger antenna, and I hope that will work out, or all this purchasing is for nothing. Once again, I'm a dupe of U.S. marketing where nothing is ever enough.
Why can't being sick be fun? After all, I'm getting time off from reporting in to work, but I'm too fatigued to enjoy it. Rats.
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