Who's asking: My Aunt Kit
Bad. Or rather, my cold is flourishing; I am miserable. Going back to bed with a bottle of Robitussin and my box of Kleenex. I just read that Lester Bangs died of a cold -- sort of -- it might have been the cold, or it might have been the combination of Darvon and Valium he treated himself with.
I have no Darvon and no Valium, but I'm taking no chances with the cold. If I feel better, I might put up a bonus post tomorrow.
2 comments:
After listening to your interview again with the Baltimore SUN, I have to say how impressed I am with your talent, intelligence, poise and good looks. Your mother must have been a wonderful person because I certainly couldn't have produced a child like you on my own.
While I'm on the subject, if you're so smart, Why ain't you rich?
Take care of your cold. Maybe you could find a rich docter and then you wouldn't need to worry about how much a visit for your cold cost.
Love, Dad
Aw, thanks, Dad.
I'm not rich because it's not interesting to me. It would be fun to be VERY rich, but only because it would be fun to give things away.
My old roommate Leigh once told me that I can't take credit for my self-imposed austerity because I really _don't_ care; if I cared and denied myself, that would be a virtue, but really _not_ caring isn't Good, it's just Odd.
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