Disgusting things on a pefectly mild Wednesday.
Morning Pork Chops. I slept it in and have yet to peruse the papers. Frankly I'm not sure I want to read the papers today, I'm sure they will be filled with annoyances and irritations and sad things and since my day has started with maximum snorage I really don't want to feck it up. Ignorance is bliss and all that.
Plus I have my own worries.
Last night tragedy befell me. Tragedy that was LAUGHED at. I'm perplexed by it all.
I ran a marathon last October, same as the year before. And same as the year before I bruised my second toe-even though I very carefully clipped my nails short as hell the night before.
Last night I had a shower and was about to get into bed when I noticed second toe, or Ted* as I now call him, looked funny. Upon investigation I was horrified to discover my toe nail lifts up like the door of a DeLorean!
Bleeeugh! Four months? I thought I had gotten away with it, but NO! Four bloody months later it decides to squick me out.
I panicked, and in gibbering horror grabbed a plaster and wound it tightly around Ted, I know it's not going to magically fix it, but at least I can't see it. Although I know it's there, being disgusting and lifty.
'Boo hoo.' I said, flappingly.
The paramour laughed and said REALLY useful things like,'Honey it's just a nail, why are you getting so upset over it, ha ha ha.'
To which I could only reply, 'Stop laughing at me. I have a trauma.'
And this for some readon struck him as very funny, and he tittered some more, leading me to plot how best to have my revenge. So far I have come up with pushing him down a flight of stairs. Yes, that's how I roll in my head.
I have a thing about this sort of thing, double things. Teeth and nails, I don't like them. Well I don't mind them, but only as long as they work perfectly and I don't have to think about them. Now I have to think about this. How will I shower in the gym? I can feel it moving. It knows I'm thinking about it. It's going to have to come off isn't it? But how? Will I have to pull it? I'll squeee myself to death if I do. And then waht? What lies beneath? Oh yack, YACK! This is right up there with things I never want to think about EVER.
Stupid bits hanging off that should be not hanging off, I am against them.
* swings both ways.
Labels: yack and blee.