So, I have been sick since pretty much last Sunday. I'm okay now, I think, although food and I are still having a relationship laced with animosity. I've suspended the South Beach diet for a few days, as carbs were the only things I could eat that didn't make me cringe. But, I'm hopped up on Bactram, and it seems to be helping. So far, I'm not having a random allergic reaction to it, so that's a score for me after the incident with my face blowing up like Rush Limbaugh after taking Avelox last year.
I think I would rather have the flu or strep throat than a stomach virus. It's like you literally want to trade in your body for another one because yours is rejecting any and all forms of sustenance. And the fever, oh, the fever. I'm wacked out enough without adding fever to the mix. I think I slept like 30 hours between Wednesday and Friday. Enough about that; I'm mostly back to myself.
Smitty's 36th birthday is today...whoooo. Men are kind of funny about birthdays. Women will declare a "birthday week," wear tiaras and feather boas, and make an enormous deal out of our birthdays, and men, at least straight men, are like, "Meh, just another year." I simply don't understand this. This is the one day that should be for YOU, to do whatever you want, people have to be nice to you (also, this happens for 2 weeks after the death of a parent, believe me, I enforced this principle), and you get stuff. How could you not want to capitalize on that? Makes no sense.
I have yet to receive my birthday present from my mom because she mailed my gift to the apartment we moved out of ..... TWO years ago. She's 70, so you might suggest "senior moment," but no, this is a woman who went into the video store many, many years ago and said, "Do you have Mr. Opus' Holiday?" She has had a cell phone for at least 5 years and doesn't know how to do anything but answer it and make calls; she still can't remember the order that the components of Taco Salad go, and she's been making it for about 20 years, and she will call me sometimes, and I answer to complete silence and then hear either, "Oh, I didn't mean to call you," or my favorite is when she doesn't realize that her phone dialed and I just hear discussion between her and my grandmother about what they're eating for dinner. I am also one of the few people who can make her giggle uncontrollably, which as an added bonus, irritates my grandmother to no end. I can only guess it's because, as she recently confessed to me, she has no sense of humor.
In the past few days, I have had the following songs stuck in my head: "Copacabana," "Lola," "Let it Snow" (wishful thinking, I guess) and "Don't Stop Believing." Can you have musical schizophrenia? I'm mildly concerned.
But I will leave you with these Neko Case lyrics, because I love them:
"How will you know if you found me at last
'Cause I'll be the one, be the one, be the one
With my heart in my lap
I'm so tired, I'm so tired
I wish I was the moon tonight"
"I Wish I Was the Moon Tonight" -- Neko Case
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