rambling rosemarie

My head feels like it's full of the fuzzy stuff that clings to cough drops when they come loose from their wrappings and adhere to the lining of your favorite purse. I have an annoying cough that has me momentarily tempted to check the inner recesses of my purses in the hopes of finding one such fuzzy gem. Alas, it would take far too much effort. I'll sip my tea instead and hope that the tickle at the back of my throat isn't headed to the depths of my lungs in a bronchial something or other that will shake the foundations of my house as I hack. Wouldn't it be nice if you could cough up a lung and clean it out thoroughly before replacing it? I am stressed and I am certain that a portion of my restlessness has been brought about by whatever it is that is making chest feel like someone has filled it with feathers and play-dough . I am trying to peel some oranges and eat them for their vitamin C. It seems like a lot of work and I wish I had a pill to take. I wish I had s

There were some odd things that crossed my mind as I hid in my closet from the storms on Friday, not the least of which was the irony over trying desperately to get into a closet when most of this warped world is trying to get out. In the days leading up to the storms I had prepared as safe a place for myself as possible having purchased a home without a basement in what locals now tell me is "tornado alley." Where were they when I was looking for a place to buy? I had stocked my safe spot with water and dog food just in case my furry friends needed a snack while we were in there. They also had a dog bed and come comfy rugs to lay on. I sat on a leather ottoman tucked in the corner where my long sleeved v-necked tee shirts tousled my hair. My gray old buddy, Chet the Wonder Dog, couldn't figure out why I was calling him into the closet. He's sort of blind and mostly deaf but he's really smart and knew we'd never spent time in that part of the house together