My tummy still on the bum, and I get a nasty reaction from the meds my doctor gave me (he said I was "exquistely sensitive"). Then the muffler almost falls off the car, I discover that an authorized payment thru my checking account didn't go through because they had the wrong account number, and top things off, just learned that Oxygen passed on my romantic comedy. They loved the premise, but they already have a movie with a very similar premise in pre-production.
Shoot me now, why don't you?
My mother had a bad night and could barely function this morning. She tried to cheer me up by reminding me that some people have it a lot worse. I shot back, yeah, I could be Terri Schiavo.
Speaking of which, the Florida Carnivale continues. Since I've been home, we've been watching the hoopla on the cable networks. Once again the talking heads are out in full force. They must have every neurologist in the country on speed dial. And don't those protestors holding vigil have anything better to do with their lives?