Tonight I watched The Simpsons �Sherry Bobbins� episode.
10:53 p.m.
Buddy Boy was successful in his bakefest and has produced a recipe of lemon bars (lemon-flavoured shortbread topped with lemony icing) which he asked me to cut (for the record, this was all the hand I had in it), and a recipe of chocolate-mint cookies made from crushed peppermint candies. For those I only offered advice on how to crush the candy, but laid not a finger on any implement of cuisson. However, I have been sitting at the computer in the attic for a good part of the evening, playing games I confess, and the odours emanating from the kitchen have been anathema to my poor sinuses.
I appreciate all comments and helpful hints, but the problem is not stuffed or plugged sinuses, but extremely painful ones. Every breath abrades, every odour is odious, and if I can get one more alliteration in there somehow, I will. Yes! Every inhalation hurts! Hence the acetaminophen, which (as my dear mother would say) helft vee a toiten bunkus, which is a rough transliteration from the Yiddish and means �helps like a dead cup�. Once upon a time, doctors sought to reduce fevers by �cupping� their patients. They would heat up cups (I�m not too clear on whether they were glass or ceramic) and place them mouth-down on the patient�s skin. As they cooled, the air inside would contract and draw out heat from the body, thus cooling it. Once a cup cooled sufficiently, it would lose its ability to stick to the patient, and fall off. This then was your �dead cup�. Anyway, I�m toughing this out. I remember several months ago practically every diary I read was full of descriptions of sniffles, sneezes, aches and pains, sore throats, coughs and any other flu symptom nameable, and I was all smug in my good health. Well, my karman has arrived.
Hubby went out tonight to a baroque music concert, which I decided to miss. We had a tiff before dinner. I said something mean which was maybe true and maybe not, but I should not have said it and even though I can blame it on the pain in my face and my need to lash out, it was inexcusable. However, instead of just punishing me, Hubby also acted rather childish and decided he wasn�t joining us for supper, which means that the kids also suffered from his hurt feelings. He�s not home yet, which is kind of strange, and makes me think that a) he is still upset and is avoiding me, or b) he is hungry and has gone out to eat. Wait, I hear the door to the garage and his keys being deposited in the ceramic pot on the dryer. So I know he�s home. I�ll wind this up and see how the concert was.
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