Mondaily with Nooooooooo!
Mar. 1st, 2010 06:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ellenmillionI came home from work to find the woodstove crackling and nice jazz on the stereo.
"I hate you," I said to Jake, conversationally.
Last week, he was sick. He missed about half the week (and Jake is not a wuss about sick. Complains a lot, but doesn't miss work). I waited anxiously for the initial signs of the same, and decided over the weekend that I'd escaped it.
Today? Woke up with a niggling hint of a sore throat and a kind of... waiting... feeling at the back of my mouth.
"I will NOT get sick," I told myself, and I think I drank 3 gallons of water today.
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
That's what my workday was like. x5.
While I was drinking, I couldn't really tell if my throat hurt.
But after work, driving to the club, I could. It did.
I worked out anyway. A good, sweaty 15 minutes of cardio to drive it away, then an unscheduled FORTY minutes at the post office. (But worth it - got Mere's paperdoll books in!! And paper.)
And my throat? Killing me.
I came home, took a very, very long, very hot shower, while drinking a hot whiskey and honey drink that my sweetie brought me, then came out and dried off and got into my softest most comfortable clothes. Which my sweetie also brought me. "I'm so sorry," he told me. "You're going to hate this."
The worst? I have an art show to hang on Wednesday and a reception on Friday.
Timing, my love. Timing.
Go read the latest issue of EMG-Zine and leave me comments or letters to the editor or submit work for the next issue (doorways) to cheer me up.
"I hate you," I said to Jake, conversationally.
Last week, he was sick. He missed about half the week (and Jake is not a wuss about sick. Complains a lot, but doesn't miss work). I waited anxiously for the initial signs of the same, and decided over the weekend that I'd escaped it.
Today? Woke up with a niggling hint of a sore throat and a kind of... waiting... feeling at the back of my mouth.
"I will NOT get sick," I told myself, and I think I drank 3 gallons of water today.
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
*draft*
*trip to the outhouse*
That's what my workday was like. x5.
While I was drinking, I couldn't really tell if my throat hurt.
But after work, driving to the club, I could. It did.
I worked out anyway. A good, sweaty 15 minutes of cardio to drive it away, then an unscheduled FORTY minutes at the post office. (But worth it - got Mere's paperdoll books in!! And paper.)
And my throat? Killing me.
I came home, took a very, very long, very hot shower, while drinking a hot whiskey and honey drink that my sweetie brought me, then came out and dried off and got into my softest most comfortable clothes. Which my sweetie also brought me. "I'm so sorry," he told me. "You're going to hate this."
The worst? I have an art show to hang on Wednesday and a reception on Friday.
Timing, my love. Timing.
Go read the latest issue of EMG-Zine and leave me comments or letters to the editor or submit work for the next issue (doorways) to cheer me up.
