In which, once again, I attempt to psychoanalyze a cartoon

What is with my WeatherPixie? Maybe all that purple hair dye has killed too many brain cells? Is she a compulsive liar? Because she's at it again. T-shirt weather, my Aunt Fanny. It's too too yucky out - oop, there's the sun! Oh no, wait, now it's gone. Oh there it - no, it's gone again. So I'm blaming the weather for the Sniglet's cold, which is forcing us to postpone his surgery for a whole month. Apparently you cannot be anaesthetised with slime in your lungs, at least not for elective surgery, which this technically is, unless we wait for it to become an emergency, which no thank you. As you may remember if you were reading this blog when my mom was first diagnosed with lung cancer, incipient medical situations create a persistent "EEEEEeeeeeeeeee..." in my head, which I now get to hold onto for another month, yay.

I took a shortcut on the lesson plan for tomorrow night's ESL class, a hugely risky move considering that my last class bombed so badly. But the house is a mess, because I'd set aside Sunday for housework but instead I spent it alternately sleeping and bolting for the bathroom (me and my whims) (yes, I feel much better, thank you), I haven't even looked at my homework, DrBob needs me to proofread the introduction for his book, I have to start that chicken soup now-now, before the chicken turns green, and I'm feeling the teensiest bit overwhelmed.

So of course, I'm blogging. After all, why do today what you can postpone until it becomes a crisis?

Song du jour del día des tages: Santana's Black Magic Woman. Wishful thinking, much?