October 19, 2011

I’m sick. Not the kind of sick where you’re completely KO’d from life, the kind where the rest of your body is fine, save the excess mucous in your face and an upper respiratory system that refuses to behave. The kind of sick where you spend all day wheezing like an asthmatic, but really you’re fine. Really. 

I cant decide which kind of sick I prefer. Sprawled out in your bed, (or couch in my case, hello unemployment!) clearing the terrible movies out of your netflix queue by watching them all in succession, bundled up in your comforter that could have used a wash a few weeks ago, and only being able to tell time based on which newscasters are trapped in your television. We’ve all been there.

Right now I have “rest of my body is behaving properly” sickness. The kind that annoys you more than sidelines you. I have yet to realize that no amount of whining will keep the snot from dribbling out of my nose. (TMI?) Whatever. Nostrils, in my opinion, are one of the more preferable orifices. I’ve been consuming unhealthy amounts of coffee, (what else is new, honestly…) staying up too late, and cuddling more with my dwindling roll of emergency toilet paper than I have with any gentleman, ever. It’s just been that kind of virus.

Later on in life, I’ll probably get cancer and long for the days of a small viral infection. Until that happens,



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