Well, this blows.
I hurt. All over. The aches from my illness are bleeding over into the creaky back from the soft mattresses we’re sleeping on over Christmas break, and I’m feeling the pinch.
(And if you think there’s just a smidgen of hopeful optimism left in me, know that I just included ‘bleeding’ and ‘pinch’ in a sentence about how I feel, when I really didn’t have to.
The glass is not ‘half full’. It’s all empty, broken on the floor, and shards of it are poking into my delicate between-toe meat. That is how I feel right now.)
I don’t know what this is — I don’t think it’s the flu, or anything dramatic like that… but I’m not ruling it out, either. I’m coughing, stuffy, achy, and feverish. It’s like the after-effects of a weekend at Denis Leary’s, or a bong party at the Barbi Twins’ place.
Okay, that doesn’t make any damned sense, does it? Well, tough. Just the fact that I can get fingers to keyboard right now is amazing enough to me, and at the same time, it’s wearing me the hell out. I’ll be back in some form — liquid, given how it feels right now — tomorrow, and back to my old self as soon as I can shake this wretched beast. Oh, and I’ll be home tomorrow — sweet, sweet home — so I should be in better spirits. And quite possibly pickled in spirits, which always makes for some interesting reading, no?
Anyway, take care of yourselves, and I’ll see you again when I get back home. Right now, it’s 10pm, and I’m going to bed. Wish me ten hours of sleep and a miracle cure for the trip back tomorrow, okay? That’d be the best Christmas gift I got all year. Toodles!Permalink | 9 Comments