Thursday Night: A Cold and CSI

Self is woefully sick. Nose dripping like a faucet. Supine on couch, watching CSI.

Greg Sanders is on trial. And the dollhouse serial killer has struck again.

And hubby is indeed very irritated by my lethargy, inquires how it is self came to be sick.

Self responds: “It was very hot in Hawaii” (In fact balmy, beautiful) “and it is very cold here, OKAAAAY?”

Yes, indeed-y, can’t get over this unseasonable cold, self wondering whether to cover budding roses with netting, anything to keep petals from shriveling up. Self walks around all day, dousing plants with buckets of water, because even though it is cold it hardly rains, and hands are stiff, frozen when self gets back inside. Hubby of course useless in watering department, is only good for going to work, disappearing for 10 hours, and coming home again to be fed.

(To think last week self was esconced in Abraham Lincoln Hall at University of Hawaii- Manoa which, in spite of not having air-conditioning, felt mighty balm-y, South Seas-like)

Earlier, watched Yau-Man absolutely trump the competition in Survivor: Fiji. In fact, am absolutely amazed that he is still in the game. Hubby rooting for him because, of course, they are in roughly the same age group.

Me? Don’t much care, though it would be fun to have African American win this time. Edgardo kicked off tonight, amidst much perturbation, and immunity idol wasted on Alex because no one voted for him anyway (Others were warned in advance by tattle-tale, think his name is Dre — ?)

OK, do you want to know how self is dressed tonight, dear blog reader? Now that self is back in sunny California — NOT!!

Self is wearing one of Dearest Mum’s old velour pantsuits. This one is turtle green (Turtle as in “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle” — I mean that kind of green). Knit muffler (purple) securely wrapped around throat. Underneath green velour pantsuit, white thermal leggings. Nose is going drip, drip, drip.

Only good thing that has happened to self so far today is that self has read not one but three great stories in O. Henry Prize Stories 2006: one, by Neela Vaswani, about a friendship between a young woman and her subject chimp, Lola, with whom she likes to watch TV; another by David Lawrence Morse, about a village that lives on the back of a giant fish; and one by William Trevor, which self finished reading not 10 minutes ago, which is the creepiest tale self has encountered in many a year, a tale that involves a statue of the Virgin purported to cry real tears, and a car accident. Self absolutely loves reading and writing about car accidents — in fact, have just finished writing story about fatal crash that occurs — conveniently — in Redwood City, which allows self to describe neighborhood in an actual piece of literature, thrills galore! But self’s story does not have the metaphysical weight, the creepiness of Trevor’s. The man absolutely firing on all cylinders: way to gooo, William!

So, back to couch, to CSI (Oh, it’s ended. Now we’re watching Shark.)

Comes along a preview for Ghost Whisperer. My God, hasn’t that thing been canceled yet?

Wonder why self is being so nasty this evening?

Today’s horoscope says (quite facetiously): Sing! Dance! Emote!

Think Yahoo horoscope writer has become quite demented.

Back to couch and Shark. Stay tuned, dear blog reader, stay tuned.


  1. johnathan said,

    April 21, 2007 at 4:06 pm

    Ghost Whisperer hasn’t been cancelled yet because it does really well in the rating on Friday nights. Some of us really enjoy it.

  2. April 21, 2007 at 4:10 pm

    Sorry! My cold is making me cranky šŸ™‚

    Thanks for speaking up.

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