Thursday, March 09, 2017

Son of b*%$&. S)#^.

(Can't remember what movie that accented quotation is from. Someone teaching an English course, in NYC, I think, and teaching the students to swear. So they're repeatedly swearing in accented English. "Son of B! Sh!")

So I wake up, thinking its close to time to actually, you know, get up. I'm sort of absent-mindedly running my fingers along the scab that is left on top of my head from where I lightly ran into the wall the last time I swam. I'm thinking, "Man, I hope that is gone by the next swimming session . . . "

And then it hit me.

Dammit.

The "next" swimming session was two days ago. I forgot it because of Teri being sick and working on my proposal.

Dammit.

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