It's just the dust, I kept telling myself this morning, just the several cubic yards of dust I inhaled while cleaning up my grandparents' trailer in Mesa yesterday in 107-degree heat in preparation for their overwintering arrival. Uh huh. That lasted a couple of hours--I'm very stubborn these days--but I finally succumbed to the reality that not even the collective conservative jetsam of several billion dead skin cells blowing off of old Midwestern folks and several thousand young Mesa Mormons is a likely explanation for the knot in my lungs and accompanying crappy cough and body aches.
Now "collective conservative" is sending me into fits of dissonant giggles, which is another telling sign that all is not as it should be, healthwise.
So I fled the office for home with a stack of papers I really should be reading, but focusing is a little hard at the moment. Focusing is hard? A distant bell is ringing through the fog. Oh yeah. Last week we had dinner at Bangkok Cafe (sweet thoon tong Jesus, YUM) and sat next to a table whose undergraduate occupants moaned about how hard it is to focus because of (1) 8:00 classes, (2) pre-lunch classes, (3) post-lunch classes, and (4) stupid people in English 101. Yes, child, I'm feelin' ya on that one.
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