I hate being sick. I don't think there's anyone who likes being ill, but I just wanted to be on record as saying how much I personally dislike. I woke yesterday to two forms of expectoring I do not like, and spent essentially all the rest of my time not in the bathroom, in my bed being taunted by bizarre dreams, not nightmares, just weird-ass dreams. I cannot for the life of me figure what got a hold on me, but luckily today it has mostly left me.
Next, to add insult to injury, someone, who shall remain nameless, called me this afternoon to confirm dinner plans for later this week (the attentive reader will be able to piece this minute puzzle together with relative ease as the week draws to a close...). Upon hearingmy scratchy voice, the individual in questions observed that I was not in a very good mood. Hmph, how many people do any of us know get into a good mood when they've been running at both ends and shifting in and out of various deliria. Oy vey. Oh well!
Tomorrow is the first of a nine day barrage of English Composition. I just read online that I have fifteen willing and brave souls. My goodness, even more than the last time! We'll see how many of them are still scribbling in nine days. Likewise, we'll see if I am, since my stomach whatcha-majiggit is turning into a sinusy whats-it. Ah life, when it rains it poors...
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