I think I may (knock on wood!) have turned the corner, in that at least I don't feel as bad as I did yesterday, so maybe I'm on the upswing. I seem to have developed a nasty-get-that-girl-into-viral-isolation hacking couch, and my tissue box and bag are my constant companions, and I'm still needing an hour's nap for every hour I'm awake, but I'm rather pleased that I don't feel any worse. I even perked up a bit at the thought of maybe going to Costco with Jodi, but it didn't take long for me to realize a.) it's Saturday of a holiday weekend, are you inSANE? and b.) the ten-minute phone conversation exhausted me and wore out my croaky voice enough.
I'm more well-equipped now too. I have many boxes of soft poofy tissues, many gallons of beverages in the fridge, some gorgeous raspberry sorbet, and MTV is re-running a marathon of the Road Rules/Real World Challenge. Dude. The only thing better than an MTV reality marathon is being sick enough to justify watching it since your brain is already mush. And I've got the funniest movie evAH, Wedding Crashers, starring one of my boyfriends, Vince Vaughn, and the Sims for amusement. So, call the sick line, I'm not going to work anymore and I'm calling in sick from life. At least for the weekend. Because come Monday morning, I think I'll be handed my discharge papers from the Sick Couch. I guess I'd better be ready to get ready to leave the country. The country, the continent, the time zone, yaddy yaddah desertcakes.
And now, it's dinner time at the Last Meal in the Country Cafe. Tonight's special: Velveeta shells and cheese. Dude.