Sick Holes
All things considered, I’d rather be home in bed. My ever-loving, sharing kids felt I might enjoy their colds, so here I am in Salt Lake City trying to maintain consciousness, snorting back the glow of green goodness from my sinuses and occasionally hacking up a giant ball of yellow oozy from my lungs. The guy sitting next to me on the first leg of my flight found a seat elsewhere after spending two minutes next to me. Hopefully the final leg will be fairly empty.
At least I am able to focus now. The drive to the airport consisted of me minimizing my blinks, remembering to open my eyes again after each one and trying like hell to keep the world focused. It didn’t help that I have a burnt-out headlight, nor did it help that everything kept spinning. Rain, darkness and vertigo are not the best conditions for doing seventy.
And for anyone who cares, my dog can make a better Cappuccino than Starbucks. And all the dog has to work with is urine, mud and some twigs. Is this a Mormon conspiracy or just a shitty product?
