Or, Benadryl has stolen from you my brilliance
Say, before we get into the actual post, did I just use the passive voice up there? Is that what it is? If so, I am seeing no reason to avoid it because how else are you going to write the melodrama?
(Heh, I think sentences about grammar are total comment bait. Sometimes I pretend not to understand the transitives to get people to talk to me on the bus.)
So today I saw this truck with a wooden bumper held on by some sort of cables. That’s about all I can say about that.
In other news, my next door neighbors are all home on vacation and it’s really annoying me, because my habit is to give the two little boys their music lessons midmorning and I don’t quite fancy any speculation on why I have “Go West” and “Eye of the Tiger” on repeat. Mind your business! Go to work! I don’t hang out next to your office all day!
Speaking of, yesterday I was puttering around in the kitchen listening to the iPod in my phone. Here’s where I confess I’m not fancy enough to have put my music in playlists so it’s anyone’s guess what’s going to play. So this song comes on:
And I realized I really like songs like that, where you’re totally relating to it and sort of sobbing along on the inside even though nothing of the sort ever happened to you. Sort of like “yeah, I could see that happening to me, and I would overcome; damn, I have a beautiful soul.”
Oh yeah, if I ever die, I want this at my funeral. I wrote it in my blog, so it is legally binding so don’t let my husband weasel out of it and play Bach or some crap like that.
Happy midweek everyone!





