Friday, August 20, 2010

defining "kvetch"

I am going to show you what is meant by the wonderful Yiddish word "kvetch," by doing some kvetching right now. Phooey. I do not do sick very well; what a stupid waste of time. I want it to be over, all this aching and sweating and sore throat business, that's quite enough.

This morning, no jackhammer drilling, that was a relief. So I looked forward to a tranquil day sitting on the deck getting some important reading done. Nyet. The annoyingly meticulous man who does the care-taking of the expensive condo's directly to the south of me decided that today was the day to paint the fence between our properties. He has been out there all day, radio blaring and oil paints flying. The air stinks and the incessant muzak drives me mad. I don't have the energy to go to the Y or do much else. It's been a stunning soft day with a touch of fall in the air, and I've been trapped inside by a painter and a stupid cold.

Phooey.

That is what is meant by kvetching. And I have a pain in my side that won't go away, and a fever and a headache. Phooey. And two more people have dropped out of my writing workshop. Having one in August was a very poor idea. PHOOEY!

Okay, that's enough. He'll surely be gone soon - how long does it take to paint a @#$#%^ fence? Turn off the @#$#% radio! Normally, you understand, I am a sweet-natured and tolerant person, it's the cold that's making me so #$%%$#% crabby.

Time for more food. Chocolate, bread, cheese. That helps. This is like an elderly version of PMS.

PS An hour and a half later, the painter is STILL HERE. I ventured outside to sit on the deck with earplugs in, and he climbed a ladder and peered over the top of the fence at me as he painted. Make him and his stinky paint and his radio go away. And now I can't find my wolf book ANYWHERE, I've looked for HOURS. And there's a 100% guarantee of rain on Sunday for the garden workshop.

Otherwise, everything's great.

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