Sick. I hate being sick. Not for the obvious reasons, like my Patty-and-Selma-cough and the fact that I've been hacking up things that would scare the demon-posessed Linda Blair. I hate it when people feel bad for me. It makes me want to punch people when I cough my smokers-cough and people look at me with that, aw, poor thing face.
I woke up this morning and there was just no denying that I was sick. I hate that- when there's no question. One eye completely glued shut and my chest heavy with goo. About as sexy as a TB patient in the last stages . . .
Anyway. Back to work, some 100 emails to answer, 18 or so voicemails, and another coworker on vacation who wants me to do their work. Yay. Meanwhile my senses are dulled and my bad eye feels like I've mistaken 10w-40 for saline solution.
Ick. 'Specially ick because this week I wanted to go out on a school night to see this and this.
Anyway. That would be a good name for a band: "Out on a School Night."
I am, however, feeling empowered because, armed with only my wit and a monkey wrench, and wearing pink glittery flip flops, I got my CHECK ENGINE light to go off in the Saab. Sweet. Although I think it is indicative of the death throes of the O2 sensor, I just hate that stupid stupid light.
No news for today. I could get into Bill Owens and his stupid "let's just not tell rape victims about emergency conraception" bill and the latest in the TABOR fiasco but I'm sick so I will leave it to more robust commentators, like Ralph.
Until next time . . .