In Which I Resist Swearing in the Title by Sheer Will Alone
So Tuesday was gorgeous, sunny and 25 degrees. I lay on the patio and didn't get sunburned after all, but it was lovely. Yesterday it was six degrees outside, and rainy with little bits of hail. And today there was a high of two degrees. Yes, that's right. Two fucking degrees above freezing.
Which sort of brings me (in a roundabout way) to another problem I'm having--swearing. I can't stop. One of the books that I'm reading right now is perfectly lovely, interesting and surprising and it involves no swearing at all. The other book I'm reading is Ash
(yes, still--the thing's huge), which is about a medieval mercenary captain. There is swearing on pretty much every page, most often numerous times per page, and there are a hell of a lot of pages. I've been reading this book for large chunks of time over the last few days, and the swearing is taking over my brain. I have had to stop myself from swearing at least five times so far in this entry alone, and have only succeeded because of the backspace key. And, just think, I was out in public today ... Oh, not pretty. How easily my young mind is warped.
So now I have to go back to sanding the plaster in the bathroom-under-construction. I hate sanding on the best of days, and I hate drywall plaster, and I have to use a vacuum sander. I fucking hate using the fucking vacuum sander!! (Sorry, but I do. That thing is--bugger it, all my metaphors involve swearing, too!)
Must stop typing now. This is only going to go downhill from here.