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Sometimes you say stupid things that don't seem stupid until after you say them. (We did have the magazine article on HIV, in my defense.)
Still sick. Hooray. Mom's been forcing medication into me. Robitussin is apparently my friend, in that it does not, at least, taste as awful as NyQuil. I think NyQuil must actually be radioactive, or some kind of poison. Or possibly mako. It's got a good color for mako.
Anyway, shortly after I got back home, my father, the master of inconspicuousness, asked my mother (they were in the other room, but across the area from each other, and my hearing is pretty decent) if I knew the bad news yet. No, says Mom. So they decide not to tell me.
SO NOW I GET TO SPEND THE NEXT UNTIL WHO KNOWS WHEN FRETTING!
Things I know that could lead to something ominous:
- Dad's place of employment either had layoffs recently or is going to be having them soon.
- dog went to the vet because of allergies/ears again
- Dad drove the car I like today (I was stuck with the evil one)
- my plant is in the sink instead of on the plant table
- I had to take three months expiredmako NyQuil last night because AUGH SICK
- ???
But Dad later said there's about a 70% chance that there's not actually any bad news.
If I had to pick from just the above, I'd vote that there is something even wronger with the dog than there already is. But it could be anything, and my brain really likes to fly through options. I've crossed a few out, anyway, I mean...
I'm fairly certain it's not a human-family problem, anyway. They'd tell me that, right?!
EDIT:
Apparently this horrible news that Dad can't stand to tell me is that the Honda has to go in for inspection tomorrow and I need to drive along to bring Mom home after she drops it off. WHAT. DAD. YOU KNOW BOTH YOUR CHILDREN HAVE ANXIETY PROBLEMS. THESE THINGS ARE NOT FUNNY. At least I'd already figured it couldn't be anything too serious. If you'd done that to your son...
/edit
Also. I've never had any real reason to dislike France UNTIL NOW. Augh. *paws miserably at screen*
Still sick. Hooray. Mom's been forcing medication into me. Robitussin is apparently my friend, in that it does not, at least, taste as awful as NyQuil. I think NyQuil must actually be radioactive, or some kind of poison. Or possibly mako. It's got a good color for mako.
Anyway, shortly after I got back home, my father, the master of inconspicuousness, asked my mother (they were in the other room, but across the area from each other, and my hearing is pretty decent) if I knew the bad news yet. No, says Mom. So they decide not to tell me.
SO NOW I GET TO SPEND THE NEXT UNTIL WHO KNOWS WHEN FRETTING!
Things I know that could lead to something ominous:
- Dad's place of employment either had layoffs recently or is going to be having them soon.
- dog went to the vet because of allergies/ears again
- Dad drove the car I like today (I was stuck with the evil one)
- my plant is in the sink instead of on the plant table
- I had to take three months expired
- ???
But Dad later said there's about a 70% chance that there's not actually any bad news.
If I had to pick from just the above, I'd vote that there is something even wronger with the dog than there already is. But it could be anything, and my brain really likes to fly through options. I've crossed a few out, anyway, I mean...
I'm fairly certain it's not a human-family problem, anyway. They'd tell me that, right?!
EDIT:
Apparently this horrible news that Dad can't stand to tell me is that the Honda has to go in for inspection tomorrow and I need to drive along to bring Mom home after she drops it off. WHAT. DAD. YOU KNOW BOTH YOUR CHILDREN HAVE ANXIETY PROBLEMS. THESE THINGS ARE NOT FUNNY. At least I'd already figured it couldn't be anything too serious. If you'd done that to your son...
/edit
Also. I've never had any real reason to dislike France UNTIL NOW. Augh. *paws miserably at screen*
