Ugh, I’m dying. My voice is gone, my joints are achy and my nose is indecisively stuffy. This is not man-flu, this is the real-deal, the cold to trump all colds!
I woke bright and early, which was a good thing, as my boyfriend and I had recently talked about making out days start earlier. I was going to be good and exercise and get this and that done, but now that I’m dying, I think that the last of my sniffle-ridden breaths should be conserved and put towards a hot bath and tea.
I hate having a cold, especially the ones where physically you’re shutting down, but mentally you’re active. But you can’t go out and do things because it’s inconsiderate to the general public and it just plain hurts!
At least typing doesn’t require too much movement. I can remain curled up on the couch and say yes to being sick, because at least I’m getting it out of the way now so I can be health for when I go back to school.
I’m pretty certain this is karma. After all, look what I did to this poor plant.
This is plant voodoo. This plant is punishing me because it was a very nice gift and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with it and it’s getting all curly and not lush. It sent out the karmic energies to make me sniffle and hurt until I figure it out.
If that’s not proof that I’m dying, I don’t know what is.