I have the
sneaking suspicion that whatever has
set up camp in my
lungs and
sinuses is
the flu. Yes,
the flu ,
decimator of millions. And so all
weekend I've been telling myself,
in so many words: "
Get thee to a pharmacy." But between
Friday's
screwdrivers and
fuzzy navels and
Saturday's recovery from the afformentioned
beverages, I haven't taken my own
advice. And now, on the
eve of another long week, I'm surrounded by used
tissues and
cough drop wrappers and
pouting over the fact that I missed
The Simpsons. Plus, I just
sneezed all over my 'puter.
Life's not fair.
Well, that was enough
bitching, wasn't it? Time for
happiness:
Happy Birthday, E2 ! I know we haven't known each other very long, and
I didn't get you anything, but enjoy your day, anyways.
As an
aside, isn't it (slightly)
interesting to see how people
categorize their
daylogs? For some people a day is a
person, for others it's an
idea or a
thing...
What the hell; for me,
November 13, 2000 is going to be a
place. Don't ask me to explain it, it just
is.
I see it's a place for Spacklequeen, too...I guess there really are no original ideas.