Being Sick Is Anus Butts
16 July 2006I have been sick for most of this week, including the entire weekend. I know I’m sick when I start cancelling all my plans, especially the ones that involve drinking and going out. I’ve obviously picked up some sort of kissing disease from some whore, and that whore should watch out because my throat is sore and my muscles ache and I’ve had to take time off work on Thursday and Friday but not the whole days because I had “important” work to do, which also includes me not being able to stay in bed tomorrow morning because I have a management meeting to minute at 8:30-in-the-mother-fucking-AM. God damn whores.
There are some upsides to being sick, however. I stayed home all weekend which gave me time to go to the supermarket, cook dinner (that would be approximately the second or third time since I moved into my new flat, some many weeks ago), sweep and mop my room, buy a shitty temporary desk because I couldn’t get the beautiful writing desk I wanted because it isn’t in stock for another six weeks, the shitty temporary desk being shitty indeed requiring me calling a friend and beg him to come over and help me and later find out that the holes were drilled wrong but decide that it will do anyway, do five gazillion loads of washing, do my hand-washing, change my sheets, and I’m sure you are thinking how interesting this all is right now. It is, I assure you. I also watched Ellie Parker (surprisingly not crap) and House of Flying Daggers (rather good, but not with subtitles for the hard of hearing).
Goblin is snuggled up on my freshly-sheeted bed, my heater is on, I am almost pajamaed, and I am now going to get a heat pack for my old granny sore muscles. Woe. WOE.
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