Never in my life have I had such a bad sinus infection. In fact, never in my life have I ever had a sinus infection, until now. Every time I move my head up or down, or even from side to side, it is agony. My jaw bone wants an out-of-body evacuation. I am in hell.
Not wanting to disturb our domestic tranquility or demote the general welfare, I limped through Easter like a one-legged rabbit. This bad mother had neither the energy nor inclination to hide a single egg. Chipper husband, however, enthusiastically speed-cooked a turkey at 450 f, mashed potatoes, and whipped up a broccoli casserole faster than a June Cleaver on amphetamines.
And don't get me wrong. I was truly grateful for his efforts. But the dirty pots and the left-over biscuit thrust willy-nilly into the fridge were, umm, less well-received by this barely-breathing mom.
But fear not, fellow mistresses of the economy. You are not forgotten. I am still slogging away at my Geithner post as my head explodes and my blogger account "forgets" the source links I've been diligently plugging into the main post.
Needless to say, this fubar situation has slowed me down quite a bit but still I plod on. Because you need to know the facts and you also need to know the criticisms do not just come from me. The Geithner plan is worse than you could have ever imagined and the window for us to express our outrage is winnowing. Hopefully I'll have the post up tomorrow or Wednesday.
How's that for a titillating cliffhanger, sure to lead to an anticlimactic finish?
In the meantime, and I hate leftover meatloaf even more than the next person, here is my encyclopoediaclical (word? sp?) subprime primer post from December, for you to peruse at your leisure while I am busy tweaking Timmy.
At least I can honestly say with a straight, however painful, face that a basic understanding of the real estate crash, and the subprime shenanigans that led up to it, will give you a decent foundation from which to evaluate the Geithner plan.
Alrighty then. I'm off to CVS to get that Neti pot I so ridiculed, lo those many months ago. Confucius say . . . . karma is a bitch.
Please, no cards or flowers. Casseroles only, fed-exed, in dry ice.