Dazed and Confused

I'm always glad to admit when I'm wrong, declare my mistakes. I've discovered it's the real easy way out, and I'm admittedly lazy. Besides, begging pardon isn't nearly as uncomfortably humbling as getting caught. That said, I admit I'll still cover up certain errors if I'm sure it's a foolproof blind. That's just human nature.

I called in sick to City Hall Monday and luckily got Jo, who called me a chickenshit and told me to go back to bed. I just couldn't bear going out in the snow with my cold. I slept most of the day and thought about Halloween. I made orange Jell-o I probably won't consume, but it absorbs unidentified and unpleasant fridge odors amazingly well as it slowly morphs into a new substance, something about the consistency of steel but with all the wonderful 'give' of rubber. I've considered dropping it off the roof sometime to see if it shatters or bounces.

Sometimes it's better to stay curious and not know. Like the time in high school I wondered: if I gain weight, will I catch up to my embarassingly disproportionate DD's and not look like such a freak? Later, after college, I did gain, but I did not catch up. They just became embarassingly disproportionate DDD's, which is a pain in the ass. And the back. And the neck and shoulders. I've lost a little, though, and they're going back, so I've stopped considering the reduction, even though it's the #1 rated cosmetic surgery as far as customer satisfaction. Too many people objected. They're all male.

Today in this town is drab and drippy, disappointingly post-autumn-glow and pre-holiday-glow. I'm having guilt over a lack of grief and relief over a lack of guilt. Toss that in an emotional salad, if you can.