Different outlook

Light night I talked about signs of cold congestion NOT getting the best of me today. HA! That was just TALK. My hypochondriac genes are in full force this morning and while Der Bingle was sick over the week-end, I am languishing on my death bed.

Quentin’s sinus surgery a couple of weeks ago – a procedure; my throbbing snot-filled nose – a catastrophe.

Perhaps I exaggerate; but it appears to help to splat the screen of this laptop with whining. Splat may not have been the best word, but somehow it just popped right to my fingers. But,of course, improvement may also have something to do with gravity since I am now in an upright position, physically, if not morally.

In all truth I have long suspected the Jews have had the right idea with the Wailing Wall; it helps to get emotion out. I know that a cold is not worthy of wailing emotion; neither is Abraham Lincoln’s stubbed toe. So I believe I am going to designate a place – and it probably should be mobile – as a Whimpering Wall. I doubt it will actually be a wall – more likely a symbolic one . . . I’m thinking two big Kleenex stretched out in front of my face.