(G)Rumble

I don't feel good. I headed home from school today in a crummy mood, of which I lay the sole blame on the fact that the class I was supposed to teach at AU was canceled today. But I listened to XM Radio's comedy channels and giggled my way through the comic stylings of Caroline Rhea and Russell Peters. Then I turned it off and the bad mood was back. Got home, and flailed my angry little self onto the sofa and took a nap. Now I feel pukey and sad. My tummy is rumbley*. Bill is sitting at my side like a good little sentry, which makes me nervous because you hear about the cats that are like little harbingers of death... Does he know something I don't? 


I bought milk at Safeway the other day and the carton top was open a little. Not so much that the milk was exposed in any way, rather that someone grabbed it and it came undone a bit. I bought it anyway. I am fearless that way. I even joked with the cashier that if she hears about my untimely death, she can know to alert the proper authorities.

I had some of the milk with my delicious cereal yesterday. Then I felt funny last night, but it passed. Now, as I sit feeling sorry for myself on my big yellow couch (that happens to coordinate delightfully with my orange cat), I'm blaming the milk. Because I can't think of anything else. I'm scared of the milk.

I don't feel good. Make Bill stop staring at me. 



*I know it's not a word, but I like the way it sounds and it goes with my title.
RUMBLEY: candidate for Merriam-Webster 2013!!!