General Grousing...But It Ends Well

1) Do you know what's worse than feeling emotionally stabby?

I'll tell you.

Feeling emotionally stabby and then having a stabby pain in your lower back just above your pelvis. I know this because that's what happened to me today. I'm not sure if there is correlation.

Regardless, Dr. Sid electrocuted me and then cracked me all over and now, I think, I may be able to function tomorrow. Fair warning though: he cannot crack my psyche thus stabby weather could continue. Emotional forecast calls for partial clearing no later than Saturday - at which point I shall indulge in a movie (or two) at the actual theater where there is popcorn and serve-yourself-processed-butter-food.

This is a picture of a Warren Ellis tweet-turned-t-shirt that Bomb Betsy bought and occasionally wears under her regular work clothes:





If she and I were anywhere near the same size, I would have borrowed it from her today. We are not and I did not. But I totally would have if we were. I <3 Bomb Betsy for owning and wearing this shirt. I would have posted a picture of her IN the shirt but I don't want to attract stalkers to her. She's had enough trauma.

2) Contributing to stabbiness?

Coming home from D&C's lovely housewarming party yesterday evening, feeling warm and a bit cheered, only to discover the #*%(*#* Botanic Gardens 1 block from my house was having a massive event and there was nowhere to park. 

I drove around for over 30 minutes, putting another 10 miles on my odometer, and finally FINALLY found a parking space more than 1/2 mile from my front door.

So I walked in the 20° dark, alone, with a stabby back, swearing the entire way.

Thanks, Botanic Gardens. You will not be getting a new membership in my name. Not when I am held hostage by your events. You may, however, receive a strongly worded letter about how little I appreciate you. Especially when you've just built a parking garage and then what? Upped your capacity permit? I am, right this very second, giving you the stink eye AND the bird. Take THAT! You...you...you...doody heads.

3) Apparently, as long as I don't know I'm doing it, I can totally grow plant-type things.

For instance, 10 days ago, I bought a 5-lb bag of yellow onions. When I bought them, they were fine. They were good onions. Happy even. They certainly should not have been growing. Yet! Yet. Yesterday, as I was doing dishes, I see this:




Ignore the industrial-size box of Splenda+fiber. That's none-ya.

What you should be looking at is the green shoot of something something coming out of that onion. WTF, onion? Did I tell you you could continue to grow?

What I want to know is whether or not I should throw that onion out? Is it poison like when potatoes start to sprout? What say you, Lovely Readers, who eat vegetables regularly? Is all lost with my onion-y goodness?

4) This is not the stabby part. This is the all's well that ends well part.

So earlier, I'd taken off my pants and discarded them at the end of my bed exchanging them for comfy pajama pants. Afterward, I was surfing the interwebz, when I heard a bit of a commotion behind me. When I turned, I saw a black, furry tail peeping out from the depths of my pant leg and then a bulky lump go rolling off the bed onto the floor entangled in pants.

Vinny came out the waistband and looked around to make sure no one had seen him. When he caught me staring, he scampered off and sought comfort in the laundry hamper of Lex.

Now. If I could only teach him how to actually do the laundry instead of just burrowing in it, we'd be golden.