Wednesday Moaning OT

Spent a couple days prior to NYE and a few after feeling like lukewarm egg salad. Low grade headache behind the eyes which lasted for four days. 

Madam Mim, The Sword in the Stone, 1963

Slight fever. Teetotal for the stretch, of course. Said, "Maybe it's a tumor," to which my spouse replied, "Not funny."

"No," I said, "Not really I guess...

"... But what if it is? If it's a brain tumor, maybe you'll remember me as the guy who had second sight. The guy who foresaw his death. You'll tell everyone you know that your husband (god rest his soul) was both blessed and cursed with The Gift. They'll look at you funny, sure, and twirl their finger at their temple and wobble their heads and cross their eyes like, she's just plain bug nuts! while your back is turned. '... you will know him by this sign; that all the dunces are in confederacy against him' and all that. 

"That's Swift. He knew the score."

"You'd think you'd have the foresight to go see the doctor," she said.

"What if it's a tumor the size of a golf ball? What if it's one of those growths with partially formed eyes and teeth, little black hairs sprouting, like I subsumed a twin in the womb? What if to remove it they have to cut a sizable chunk of my forebrain out? Wouldn't that be something? Maybe I'd be able to enjoy network TV again... Enjoy an old fashioned love song on the radio... Nod my head in agreement with Barbie... Become a Swifty... That's Taylor Swift, not Jonathan. She also knows the score. Of the Kansas City game anyway. Ha!"

... and so on... just be happy you all only have to deal with me but once or twice a week.

As of this writing, I've only watched one movie this year; Whiplash on Netflix. I didn't like it, but it was competent. Very competent. Some of you probably liked it, and that's fine. Objections will be noted.