Sick.

Today I called in sick. I super didn't want to, but (and I won't go into the lovely details) it was necessary. I wasn't sick sick, but standing for eight hours was certainly out of the question, as was being nice to, well, anyone.

Therefore, I had myself a day off in which I fell like shit and slept a lot but then had that awkward time where I was too awake to sleep but too lousy to do anything useful. I half-heartedly dust-busted (the afternoon light REALLY brings out the dust-bunnies...) and then watched the food network for, oh, maybe six (or ten)1: bag hours. Reading took a bit too much effort--having to set down a book to empty one's nose every page is very irritating. I was delighted to find that the British series "Footballer's Wive$" (yes, it's really spelled like that) has a new installation, so settled in for a bit of BBC loving. Oh trashy British TV, how I have missed you!

Numbers for the day:
13: mugs of tea, which equals to about 20 metric cups. i know, i'm a fiend.
10: hours of TV
4: hours of reading (to balance out the TV abuse)
1: box of tissue
1: roll of tp (after running out of tissues)
30: minutes to trudge to the store after running out of all paper products in which to empty nose (plus buy lin treats)
1/2: bag of salty chips eaten. (hey, i have a sore throat, salt helps...[they were baked chips. stop judging])


Hours until I have to go back to work? SO not even counting.