Ignore me, ok? I hate bitching about being sick. And yet, I feel compelled to.
Nothing quite like using a nice holiday weekend to sleep off an annoying fucking cold. Just what I was wanting. Instead of having some sort of night out on the town with friends, or some sort of nekkid holiday revel to celebrate by birthday, I’ve been alternately sleeping, watching my football team get royally smacked, and trying to complete some basic domestic tasks like laundry before I have to go back to work.
I was gonna take tomorrow off for my birthday. I dunno what I was gonna do, maybe just take my motorcycle up a hill or maybe go sit in a cafe and write. But I was gonna do something just for me. Only now I don’t fucking feel like it. If I’m gonna be sick, I might as well be working.
Too late though, I already put in for an extra day off.
Honestly the thing that pisses me off most about being sick is that I wanna go work out. Which means I’m getting back to gym-rat mentality. I wanna get in there and work ’til I sweat, work ’til it burns. And I can’t, not when I’m dizzy and coughing and sneezing.
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.