This morning when I woke up, my eyes were sealed shut and my nose was no longer attached to my face apparently and I had that Elmer's glue lip syndrome so I called up the boss man and said I needed to sleep a bit more before I rolled into the office. After a hearty codeine-induced, 2-hour snoozefest, I finally got here around 10 a.m. but I'm feeling like someone hit me with a steam roller. Just like in A Fish Called Wanda. All slow-motion like. "It's K-K-K-Ken c-c-c-coming to k-k-k-kill me." I think that'll be the next DVD I pop in.
Last night I threw caution to the wind and went out with Quasi-beau and a couple of his buddies to get some beer and nachos and watch some football. In hindsight, always 20/20, that might have put the nail in my cold coffin so to speak. So, Shora and Sassy, while I enjoyed your theory of alcohol killing my germs, I think I just blew it right out of the water.
So I've got a little under 6 hours left of my work day and a 3-hour class to look forward to tonight. I don't know if this gal could feel any better about the direction this day is taking, truth be told.