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flying through
May. 8th, 2012 11:05 pmI have this cough. I don't think it is whooping cough. But I really can't take anything for it because MOST cold medication (at least the OTC stuff) has this one ingredient that makes my heart race, gives me an anxiety attack, and is like a weak speed trip.
So I cough and cough. It is a sexy thing I tell you.
Some surveying sort is coming to the house tomorrow to look at all of our stuff to figure out the exact size box/container that will be required to ship things to England. I wonder what route our stuff will take. Maybe it will go through the panama canal. My stuff will arrive having gone to exotic locations and will find life in rural England to be a bit of a let-down. Then my stuff will take up drinking or recalling that one heady night at a port in Tangiers. My stuff will say, "I met this girl named Fatima. She was beautiful. She wanted to run away but I told her no... I had to go and be stuff in some ungrateful woman's house. So instead she went off with some stuff to Zanzibar. I could be in Zanzibar you know."
My stuff has an active life.
I think someone else is coming over to finish painting that damn balcony. It is going to be a regular visitors day. Leave your calling card. It will go on a silver tray.
So I cough and cough. It is a sexy thing I tell you.
Some surveying sort is coming to the house tomorrow to look at all of our stuff to figure out the exact size box/container that will be required to ship things to England. I wonder what route our stuff will take. Maybe it will go through the panama canal. My stuff will arrive having gone to exotic locations and will find life in rural England to be a bit of a let-down. Then my stuff will take up drinking or recalling that one heady night at a port in Tangiers. My stuff will say, "I met this girl named Fatima. She was beautiful. She wanted to run away but I told her no... I had to go and be stuff in some ungrateful woman's house. So instead she went off with some stuff to Zanzibar. I could be in Zanzibar you know."
My stuff has an active life.
I think someone else is coming over to finish painting that damn balcony. It is going to be a regular visitors day. Leave your calling card. It will go on a silver tray.
