Now I'm sick . . . ill with the black plague, I'm sure. My whole body aches . . . and not from the SKA concert, there are chills, there is sore throatness, there might be a fever but I don't have a thermometer. . . and I know I've been staying up all night but I slept ALL day. In the fetal position. Groaning softly. With a blanket over my head.
It doesn't help that I am the biggest hypochondriac in the world. I'm already dreaming up all the diseases that start with "flu-like" symptoms. So I'm sure I'm terminal . . . it couldn't just be a cold. They definitely should not let me watch House.
In between thoughts of my demise, I'm waiting on the phone to ring and making mix CDs. I have no food in the house, my usual M.O., which is inconvenient when you don't feel well enough to leave the house. I ate Ramen for dinner. (did you realize that there are TWO servings in that package? Two servings for small children? Cats?) (Ramen are not very low calorie either, by the way) So I may have to rally enough for a trip to Meijer tonight . . . and we all know how I love the Royal Oak Meijer at midnight. On a Thursday.
But for gosh sake! Why do I always have to get sick on vacation?
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