Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
OK ladies and gents. According to Thesaurus.com, today’s Word Of the Day (WOD) is “darkle.”
Meaning: to grow dark, gloomy, etc.
Some suggested usages:
When the storm clouds rolled in and it began to darkle, I accidentally knocked over an old lady in my rush to get inside before the rain.
As his brow furrowed and lips pursed, I could tell that the poet’s mood had darkled.
“Damn!,” Horace exclaimed. “My white shirt darkled in the laundry when I washed it with a navy sweatshirt!”
Not that I’m exactly a pro or anything yet, but it’s in bad journalistic form to ask to interview someone who passed away three years ago … whoops.
I keep trying to convince my wonderful boyfriend that he’s a feminist simply because he believes that women and men deserve equal respect.
My hope though does occasionally waver … like when he describes the problems surrounding “gender rolls.”
I’m a graduate student working on her final project, her professional project, as it’s called, and I’m eating Super Mario Brothers fruitsnacks to give me energy … I don’t know if that’s sad, strange or suuuuuper awesome.
(Oh, and I’m not above complaining if I get too many yellows and oranges …)
Thanks for the well wishes for my moronic mishap. My hand is feeling fine.
Honestly, I’m struggling more with
1. Encouraging the band-aid to stay stuck on my palm, a creased and sweaty spot for anything to adhere to.
and
2. The tetanus shot the nurse discovered I needed, since my last puncture had been about 12 years ago. It feels like Hulk Hogan punched me in the shoulder. Jerk.
So yesterday I accidentally cut my hand through a potato.
Go ahead and chalk that up to one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.
Went to the doctor today to get some butterfly stitches, and she instructed me to keep my wounded appendage clean. Since I only occasionally rub my hands in raccoon droppings, I feel like I should be able to manage that, but I’ll keep you posted.