This morning, I was almost hit by a car. When I say almost, I'm praising air brakes, otherwise I'm pretty sure I'd be in the hospital by now. The thing was, it was totally my fault (poor driver). I crossed the road when the light turned green, though the walk signal, for some reason, didn't go on. See, totally my fault. Quite normally, I'm much more observant when crossing. Just today I was distracted a bit - thinking on stuff - and not paying attention. So, despite glaring evilly at the driver, I'd like to apologise to her. You didn't do any damage, whoever you are (other than a fright and a wake-up call). It's totally my fault.
Incidentally, almost being hit by a car didn't put me in my current mood. I've been like this for almost a week now - the longest low I've had for a while. It's just one of those things, I guess.
I'll stop depressing you all right about now, and give you today's Forgotten English:
A wanton wench that is ready to ride upon the men's backs, or else passively to be their rompstall. The word mutton, when applied to a woman, whether alone or as part of a compound epithet, seems always to have been opprobrious, [as in Shakespear's] Two Gent[lemen] of Verona: "Ay, sir; I a lost mutton, gave your letter to her, a laced mutton; and she, a laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing for my labour." From rig, rigging, ready to bestride any inactive stallion, and give him a quickening spur.
- Frederick Elworthy's Specimens of English Dialects: Devonshire, 1879
Rigmutton rumpstall, a wanton girl. West Country.
- Joseph Wright's English Dialect Dictionary, 1898-1905