My allergies are killing me again today, but if I go to bed none of my work will get done. And I had to go to the supermarket this morning.
As I sit here trying to write, with the allergies running hog-wild, the fatzing phone keeps ringing and it’s always twaddle, always someone trying to extract money from us. The last call featured a live person instead of a robot, with a thick Indian accent, trying to sell me “orthopedic pain management.”
Scanning the nooze hasn’t helped me, either. I think I may be getting allergic to Democrats.
*Sigh* … Time to write Joe Collidge.