I’m not kidding. I have this new assignment that is kicking my butt on a regular basis, and makes me stay up until the wee hours of the night emailing people on the West Coast. If it were up to me, there’d be no time zones. You just get up when I do, and that’s it! The sad thing is I like what I’m doing, I feel valued and like I contribute, but I am just too darned sleepy to revel in that.
Speaking of sleepy, don’t oversleep and forget to call your mama on Sunday. It’s Mothers’ Day. I think that’s right …? Should it be Mother’s Day? I’m not sure. Also, I don’t know about purposefully vs. purposely — write a comment and tell me about appropriate usage, because it’s driving me nuts. Oh, and also, do you pronounce chickanery with a “ch” sound like “church”, or a “sh” sound like “chic”? This is a conversation I had at work today with the coworker I like the best, but I still want to be right, so vote for “church”, please.
I’m going to the big, bright, parochial lights of Cincinnati, Ohio next week to get my tumor –which I’ve named Leroy because it’s just that big — examined by a doctor. I have to go there to have the surgery, because I can’t spend 6 weeks of recovery on my back in Harlem. I need to be out with the people, yanking chicken/oxtail (yes, oxtail — this is another thing I’m gearing up to count) out of Lou’s mouth, or it’s just no good. Instead, I’ll luxuriate in decadent comfort (this is not a joke, either) at my parents’ house. Lou is going to take his first ever plane trip with me to go next week, and will be able to luxuriate for several weeks until I come back for the surgery. Lucky dog.
Bonus? I can spread D-con over every floor, every surface in the house before I go, so Beau, Benilda, and Barry (I think there’s three different mice … but, maybe it’s the same one, just dressed differently) can eat, eat, eat, and then die, die, die. I can’t wait to sweep up the little brown deadies when I get back.