Attack of the sick.

If this is what twenty minutes of swimming does to me now, I think I might cry.

True, I was a moron that didn't stretch, didn't warm up, didn't use the hot tub, and didn't have any goggles... and ended up with a seized-up neck and shoulders, a sore knee, and eyes so red I think people might have mistaken me for returning from the future to kill Linda Hamilton.

And now? Now my throat feels like slime-coated lava, I ache pretty much from the jaw down, and I speak like I've an eighty year-old held captive in my lungs.

Mom gave me a regime of eight different vitamins/pills to follow, plus mushy breakfast and tea, tea, tea. Dad said he'd advise me on an actual program to follow so that I might not turn into a very soggy knot next time.

And me? Part of me still thinks that this couldhave all been avoided if I'd just found my goggles.

Somewhere between the constant nagging of 'ick' and 'ow' and 'wheeze', I think I might attempt to finish that one commission portrait, maybe finish my 20_inkspots thing, and then hide in my room under the guise of studying for my CanonLit exam on Monday.

Which means that I'll be constantly online, looking for distractions and doing little mental dances of joy when they find me. But not physical dances, because that would involve moving... and moving = ow.

dhaunea? Ever since you shared your dreamtime Star Wars/Trading Spaces idea, the affected one in question has been utterly terrified at the top of his lungs... last night even keeping me awake at several points. I'm not sure if this means it's a good thing or not. Maybe this fated bout of being ill means he's struck a bargain with my immune system while I wasn't looking.

Little brat.

Sick Wisdom

I don't like to brag, but I am the Typhoid Mary of AIM chatting. I kill people. Ask anyone who chats with me for more than ten minutes.

Just a few minutes ago, I slew toxictattoo with this gem of knowledge that the world couldn't be without:

"Geh. Sneezes are like bad smut. You can see the signs coming from a long way off... and sometimes they take forever and ever and ever to get it OVER with in an awkward, painful expulsion... and other times they just beat you over the head and leave you feeling like you need a Kleenex in more than one place.

And?

Each one is about 1/8 of a real orgasm."

He died.

There I go again... maybe I should be a spokesperson for respawning insurance or something...