02.03.05

I'm still dressed provocatively in a sweatshirt with a stain in the shape of Peru, wool socks, battered blue terry drawstring pants, the geekiest glasses ever and a scarf around my neck.

Yessirree, Bob. I'm still sick.

Being a little sick while trying to function at a job makes every day more surreal. It's fun, in a strange and unusual way. Trying to make thoughts behave and words march out of my noggin in some ordered fashion is almost impossible. Driving? Ha! Though I'm still a better driver than most people in Stumptown, even with my low-grade fever and dippiness.

That's all. I'm going to take drugs now. Drink some more fluids. Shove some more zinc gel up my nose. Ain't it grand?

Mater asked if I wanted to see my doctor. What would she do other than prescribe rest, fluids and over-the-counter medications that lessen the symptoms? That's all ready happening. Save the $$ and see the doc another day, I say.

It's settled in my ears and throat now. My ears feel as if they've been rinsed with carbolic acid and salt poured in. My soft palate *OoW!* feels raw and pissed off. Whee.

Where's the damn tissues? And where, oh where, are my lovely, ever so slightly disheveled, dark-haired, flashing smile, trashy romance novel heroes? I do deserve a herd of them, after all.

Whee. Just what is my temperature anyway?

Hang on...

Oh. Whee, indeed. This explains some of it. My temperature is 102 degrees fahrenheit. That ain't shabby, neh?

I'd best go before I totally embarrass myself.

It may be too late all ready.

Oh well.

*laugh*

You go be wonderful.

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