Playground gravel

I know I must be stressed out if the ol’  Texidor Twinge acts up. I spent my morning  sneezing buckets, and every time- POW! Stuck right in the ribs with the invisible knitting needle of Precordial Catch Syndrome.

Holy crap! I can get it ON A MUG!

I used to get it all the time back when I was living in Los Angeles. I’ll never forget looking at talking Darth Vader masks in the toy aisle of Target with my boyfriend, when all of a sudden a helluva bout kicked in and he just held me there, real quiet like, while I cried for several minutes until it went away.

It’s not some big, bad thing, you understand. It’s just that it comes on so suddenly, and hurts so awful bad — like getting a piece of playground gravel stuck between your ribs — that it can really get in the way on things one might want to get done during the day… like sneeze. Or breathe.

The dog is sitting here with me. She’s licking her front paws, except it sounds like she’s trying to use the part of her tongue where it’s attached at the back of her mouth. Sounds like rhythmic vomiting. Good grief, dog. Have some manners! You’re like to make a girl sick over here! These people don’t want to hear about your barfy grooming noises! Mercy…

Tuna casserole makin’ time. I shall endeavor to not sneeze on the dish.

Not that I’d tell you if I did. I’d just let you wonder.

Forever.

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