hairball

I'm up to my nostrils in damp dog hair. It is a sort of metaphor, you see. The original "sick as a dog" not only did not seem to fully express my nauseatedhackingwheezingphlemmyheadacheness, but it also doesn't make any sense. You can imagine, however, being trapped in an underground cistern which is gradually filling up with moistened dog hair, hair which is just now tickling at your nostrils as you desperately try to poke your nose free.

This, anyway, is why I've not been diligent with my beloved barkingreed.

Perhaps, though, a quote to tide you over...

"Hope without patience results in the illusion of optimism or, more terrifying, the desperation of fanaticism. The hope necessary to initiate us into the adventure must be schooled by patience if the adventure is to be sustained. Through patience, we learn to continue to hope, even though our hope seems to offer little chance of fulfillment... Yet patience equally requires hope, for without hope, patience to easily accepts the world and the self for what it is, rather than what it can and should be."

- Stanley Hauerwas