I was so pumped to write a new post about how excited I am that I bought a couch. But then, after steam cleaning it Sunday afternoon and then doing mad homework and study Sunday evening, it occurred to me that I didn't feel so hot. Not feeling hot to the point that by the time I went to bed, I knew Monday was going to eat me alive, and spit out my bones. (Side note: this gruesome metaphor is probably in part due to the fact that I saw a hawk this evening, and it dropped a squirrel from its perch atop a lightpost; I only noticed the bird because I was sitting in my car with the windows rolled down and heard a huge SPLAT.) I was right, of course, and woke up Monday morning with the grim realization that I was actually still ALIVE. Besides having enough energy to barely flop out of bed, it felt like the Incredible Hulk had paid me a visit and was currently squeezing his ugly green wrist around my throat. And when I tried to swallow, he just looked at me and laughed and was like, "Haha, yeah, I'd like to see you try." And then I did, and he tightened his hold on me.
Which is why I've been popping Ricola lozenges like they're candy all day. And why I've come about this close to just sticking my head into a vat of Jasmine green tea. And also why I went to Target and tried to buy them out of Campbell's Chicken Soup. I generally keep Kosher, and eat more or less vegetarian most of the time anyway, but suddenly I was compelled to eat unkosher chicken soup for two reasons: 1.) I didn't have any chicken. 2.) Who the fuck has time to make chicken soup properly when it feels like if you don't eat, STAT, the Grim Reaper might come knocking. At least with chicken soup handy, you can offer the chap some lunch.
I think the funnest part of the day was the exam I took tonight. I studied for the thing for a good bit of the day, inasmuch as one can study when a freight train decides to park itself in one's throat. Figures that the day I can't talk is the day I have my test in Voice Disorders. Yes, I have one, thank you, can I go home now? I basically sat in my chair for an hour and a half and circled whichever letters looked most attractive to me at the time. Then I came home and greeted my toilet. For twenty minutes, no less.
I'd like to think I'm now on the mend, but it's 1:30 in the morning and sleep has yet to find me. To that, I have one word: blech.