Karl (louderback) wrote,
Karl
louderback

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Warning! The following diary entry contains discussion of gooey .icky, post-surgical things.

A sticky situation

My head leaks. OK. No details, but suffice it to say that the bandage over the scar over the aluminum thingie that fills the hole where my grape used to be leaks icky stuff.

I fell asleep around 19:30 this evening, quite unexpectedly. That's the best way in my opinion I slept until maybe 21:30 when I was awakened by the harbinger of Linux (long story). I had a fairly brief conversation discussing the merits of 7.2, the alienated state of MS users and the extraordinary announcement that XP is going to be succeeded by two more version in four years.

    How many times do I have to pay you for an operating system, Bill?

It just seems unreasonable to me

My conversational skills sufficed that I didn't sound like a complete idiot despite being awakened from a truly depressing dream and remaining a bit groggy. I was, however, continuously bothered by my bandage. I have this butterfly clip besotted bandage that is constantly shrinking, drying, absorbing ick, expanding, and generally itching. This is annoying. This is especially annoying during the night when a tiny trickle of ick escapes beneath the butterflies and dribbles into my ear or across my forehead. A single drip seems to contain about four gallons of fluid.

I am still working out the physics of surface tension and weight displacement that allows a four gallon blob to form on my temple, balance menacingly, tickle me into wakefulness, and generally set me up for torment before bursting like Hoover Dam in all those disaster movies.

While it is too late by far to make this long story short, let me wrap it up by saying that during my conversation with Mighty Ed, the Harbinger of Linux and Various Software Recently Arrived I was bothered incessantly by little trickly, itchy, floppy, loose-bandagination. So I thought. It was my opinion that my bandage was coming loose and would have to be re-butterflied. It turns out that I fell asleep, woke, conversed, walked around the house, went to the bathroom and performed a variety of mundane functions to find that I had done all this with a Kleenex stuck to the side of my head in the gooey ick.

Doncha hate it when that happens?
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