Day twenty-one. Bleck.
I’ve been tossing and turning since a little before 4:00am this morning. Mainly, because I couldn’t breathe very well. And spent most of the night choking on my own snot and getting sick at my stomach from inadvertently swallowing it.
Lovely description, I know. Part of writing is being able to speak the brutal truth though. Mission accomplished.
I hate being sick. Despise it. Loathe it. Detest it. Is there a stronger word to describe it? Not sure, but I’d love to come up with a more colorful phrase to properly damnify this abominating state I’m in.
Why why why can’t people please just stay the hell at home when they’re sick? And wash their hands? No one wants your crap! Especially me! I know some of you don’t have the benefits of sick leave (myself included), but when you go to work (or out in public), you stand the risk of infecting others with your nasty germs. Then they get sick, and so on. It becomes a vicious cycle of disgust, thus affecting the fluctuation of the economy.
So, in essence, the state of the economy depends on you. Stay home.
I have to conjure up the strength to pack some bags later, as I am house/dog-sitting for some friends of mine starting tomorrow until the end of the month. They are flying to New York to visit family for the holidays. I am seriously looking forward to getting out of my current surroundings. And enjoying some peace and quiet. Hope to get some writing done. Lounge around in my pajamas. Order take-out. You see, I live in a rural area (which I LOVE), but often I go without the simple conveniences of living closer to civilization – such as a pizza delivery.
I also can’t wait to start reading my new book, “Decision Points” by George W. Bush (a gift from a friend). I can read until all hours of the morning if I want, and then blissfully, and lazily, sleep as long as I want the next day. Ahhhhh, the little joys in life.
About to go load up on meds to help be breathe.
Maybe overdose on ibuprofen and slip into a nice little coma.