I’ve always found language (and it’s butchering) interesting. The Wife walks in the house the other day,
“I feel bad, I feel real bad. I feel like death warmed over, y’know?”
She has a college degree in English, and she talks like this. What is the value of education? And what does this mean? For the life of me, I’m sitting there wondering to myself, what is it like to feel like death warmed over? The British say “death warmed up” but that just brings the image of a hot corpse to mind. Not very entertaining, that.
But, “death warmed over” could be something like death leftovers, perhaps. The box for the last dead guy’s coffin. The trash from somebody else’s mourners; already wet tissues and crumpled programs with somebody else’s name on them. Wilted flowers not deemed good enough to transport to the gravesite. The empty bottles and food trays from the ‘really great wake’ that somebody else had.
Death leftovers. Yeah, I don’t think I want to feel that bad.
