So death is stalking me. Which sucks. I'm not sure how exactly I got on the Reaper's "naughty" list, but He appears to have it in for me. When I woke up this morning, I cursed my sinuses for yet another night of fitful sleep brought on by the ever-present junk in my nose. I may have said something to the effect of, "Jesus, Joesph, and Mary, I can't take this snot anymore! Kill me now!" And while laying on the couch last night, I became quite alarmed. I heard, off in the distance, that synth-clicking sound that the Predator makes as he's roaming the jungle. And it sounded as if it was getting closer.
I muted the TV. (Shutting it completely off was too time consuming. If I'm going to die at the hands of our alien overlords, it going to be with the television on, by God)
I listen again, more intently. There it was. Bone chilling. And then again, faster this time.
Um, yeah.
The sound is coming from MY LUNGS. I'm sure that's really healthy. So much for quitting smoking a year ago. Fat lot of good that did me. My professional opinion is that I either have the creepy crud or pneumonia. Either way, I've missed out on a lot of menthol goodness for nothing.
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