You know that catchy cough syrup commercial that always ends with
Well, I think I may have added a new symptom to that list of maladies that the gross ole thick stuff can cure: domicile breach. No, it's not the criminal kind -- you need the police for that! It's the kind of infringement on your home where the outside world creeps its way into your comfort zone and won't let go, taking hold of your every thought until you can no longer...just...REST.
This week's been a pretty hard one, a real stand-out piece a' scat scum. However, I think it was having my bike stolen Tuesday that really turned my perspective around, made me realize things can always be worse. No, actually it was that I had just shelled out well over a hundred bucks of repairs on the bike that made me figure it could always be worse. Yeah, that was the one.
Losing the bike was tough, because it was supposed to help me out with my new job I'm taking in the off season when people aren't as free to go hiking in the woods every day. I was supposed to use it to get around town when the girlfriend has the car. But now, that dream's gone, because I stupidly forgot it outside my apartment when I had to rush in from one job, change clothes, and transfer to the now-available car to drive to another. Yep, it's enough to make you sick: the sheer stupidity of the mistake coupled with the cynic-molding idea of someone just taking your bike right outside your home.
And then pair all this with a job you thought was stable being suddenly whittled down... Just...folks, it can be really hard to go home at night and relax in your home.
So that's why I recommend cough syrup.
|Get this man some Nyquil!|
I credit the girlfriend for coming up with this very simple solution to not letting the outside world breach our precious, comfortable domicile: every time a word of work, or stolen bikes, or the unfortunate rearrangement of our not-so-long ago stable lives is mentioned in a negative context, the speaker of that word -- pretty much just me, so far -- is punished with a shot of cough syrup, where it's then spit out after 20 seconds of being swished around in the jowls so that rancid, bitter aftertaste can linger for a good, long time after.
I've never liked the stuff and Jessica really did find the perfect deterrent for keeping worlds separate. It leads me to believe this is one unmentioned, but totally intentional symptom it was made to cure. Just think: they can put a man on the moon, but they STILL can't make cough syrup taste like it's Coca-Cola? Jesus, the meer suggestion of the stuff when I was younger was enough to make me stop faking and spring to the bus stop like an old fast-motion scene from "The Munsters". Just the taste... I don't know what's worse: the hard, bitter cherry or the thick sour blueberry which tastes like and has the consistency of the very mucus it's supposed to expel.
So, we got that pretty well figured out. It's better than a swear jar -- only because we need every last cent right now and don't really have anything to throw in there. So I highly suggest this proven method, if anything from that awful, cold world outside is breaching your domicile.
Just don't swallow it. If things are really bad out there for you, that could be dangerous.