God dammit. I was feeling good about my prospects this year. Yes, I spent two and a half weeks sick. But so did everyone else! I was just trying to fit in! Besides, that length of time isn’t that bad by my historical standards. Generally speaking I spend about every twelfth day of the year coughing or sneezing or otherwise being unpleasant to be around, and doing so in an extremely biological manner. I thought this year’s stats would be an improvement.
But this morning I woke up with a 101 degree fever. My eyes stung. My lungs felt like burlap covered with cat hair, and my spine felt like a tube of pantyhose crammed full of pointy garbage. I took a sick day and lord was it ever a good idea.
The afternoon’s been filled with cranberry juice and bad science fiction movies (when Henry Rollins and Dolph Lundgren are by far the best actors in a production you know you’re looking at a quality piece of cinema). Tomorrow? Well, we’ll see.
Henry Rollins and Dolph Lundgren? Sounds like someone has been watching Johnny Mnemonic! I’m not sure that’s the path to getting better…
Maaaaybe. Personally, though, I found it immensely therapeutic.