Well, I’m home with a cold today. What’s that old saying? “Feed a cold, punch the fuckface who gave it to gave it you” – right? Big shout out to the co-worker who came to sick work this week, hacked all over the office, and infected me. Good stuff.
Other than the annoyance of being sick, it’s actually not so bad. I have sick days lined up so I’m not stressed about that, I am getting a few things done around the house, and daytime TV has some fun surprises (What is UP, Gilmore Girls!). The downside? The crazy-ass dreams that accompany the sweet cold medicine-induced slumber. Like, that I wound up at a Romney rally at our local Planned Parenthood. What the hell, subconscious?
Other than being an incubus of plague, life has been pretty sweet. The weather is showing signs of acknowledging autumn, my hair looks great (after six stylists in four years it appears we have a winner), and the Giants are in the playoffs. Being hopped up on Theraflu should add some extra-special excitement to Game 3.