I am sick. Again.  It’s the sinus infection that won’t quit, now with more phlegm!  I wish I could remove my pounding head and lay it down on a nice pillow with some soft music for it to recover for a day or so while I go about my business. 

I’m now on my third round of antibiotics (heeellllloooo, yeast infection, my old friend.) because I was a dipshit and kept forgetting to take my medicine correctly the last go-round.  Kind of like how I keeping forgetting the correct way to wear underwear.  Every day this past week, I discover half-way through the day that I’m wearing it inside out. What the hell is that all about?

I also recently found two thongs stuck to the freshly laundered sweater I had been wearing.  Luckily I’d only been to, let’s see, three stores, before realizing there were bright teal and red underwear trying to escape through my neck-hole. Char. Ming.

It’s all the fault of one pint-sized germ factory.  Before him, I don’t believe I’d been this sick, or stupid, since…I’m thinking 1998?

In the meantime, I’ve got a box of tissues and a mug of Tiramisu coffee at my elbow, and a heating pad on my neck.  And I’m going to occasionally moan pathetically to myself.  Carry on.

This is one of the sucky parts of freelancing...no sick days.

I’ll be here propped up with expandable folders and duct tape if anyone needs me.