Ow, quit it
This morning I woke up in the throes of a coughing fit so awful that when it was over, there was a frightening stabbing, sharp pain in my chest (actually, it's exactly under my left breast, which I keep clutching in pain while in public). I decided to ignore this and instead proceed as planned to Publix, where I was buying ingredients for my contributions to the Features department potluck. On a whim, I decided to make dark chocolate mini cupcakes with vanilla buttercream frosting and shaved milk chocolate, because I am an idiot. But I did this nontheless, and somehow made it to the office to get to eat a bunch of exciting things, including Oline's completely awesome corn souffle. I now have the recipe.
So after being there for about an hour, and realizing that I was hunching over and breathing in as shallow a manner as possible, I decide maybe I should call my doctor because my editor was talking about my predecessor cracking a rib when he had walking pneumonia. So, I did, and they told me to go the ER, so I did. (Luckily, I happened to be wearing my nicest bra today.)
I don't think I've ever been to Broward General before, which is odd because I seem to have known a lot of people over the years who were born there. I think someone fucked up, because despite it being packed I didn't have to wait very long at all. I did read the entire new EW, but that doesn't take more than an hour usually. So, X-rays were inconclusive, blah blah blah, and I'm now at my parents' house waiting for a prescription to be filled that involves narcotic painkillers, so there's that. My dad is forcing me to drink peppermint tea, because he is my dad.
I just revealed to this guy that I'm kind of talking to that I am not a Republican, and I sort of suspect he is. But I'm hoping not, because that's really a deal-breaker. He's an air traffic controller, 28, not divorced, and he's hot. Clearly there must be something very wrong with him.
My father is playing some intensely awful folk music about taking a hammer and smashing things. "I'd take those smug mainline owners, make them take a look." Something about "orange water running down." Oh, my God, this song is about toxic waste. My father is now cackling at how bad it is, and changing it.
Tomorrow morning I've got to get my annotated Top 10 list done, and reviews of Life Aquatic (two stars) and The Aviator. If I am feeling well enough, and do not behave in my typical recalcitrant fashion, I could conceivably finish all my work through the end of the year by Wednesday evening. That would be lovely.
And now, my prescription awaits.
So after being there for about an hour, and realizing that I was hunching over and breathing in as shallow a manner as possible, I decide maybe I should call my doctor because my editor was talking about my predecessor cracking a rib when he had walking pneumonia. So, I did, and they told me to go the ER, so I did. (Luckily, I happened to be wearing my nicest bra today.)
I don't think I've ever been to Broward General before, which is odd because I seem to have known a lot of people over the years who were born there. I think someone fucked up, because despite it being packed I didn't have to wait very long at all. I did read the entire new EW, but that doesn't take more than an hour usually. So, X-rays were inconclusive, blah blah blah, and I'm now at my parents' house waiting for a prescription to be filled that involves narcotic painkillers, so there's that. My dad is forcing me to drink peppermint tea, because he is my dad.
I just revealed to this guy that I'm kind of talking to that I am not a Republican, and I sort of suspect he is. But I'm hoping not, because that's really a deal-breaker. He's an air traffic controller, 28, not divorced, and he's hot. Clearly there must be something very wrong with him.
My father is playing some intensely awful folk music about taking a hammer and smashing things. "I'd take those smug mainline owners, make them take a look." Something about "orange water running down." Oh, my God, this song is about toxic waste. My father is now cackling at how bad it is, and changing it.
Tomorrow morning I've got to get my annotated Top 10 list done, and reviews of Life Aquatic (two stars) and The Aviator. If I am feeling well enough, and do not behave in my typical recalcitrant fashion, I could conceivably finish all my work through the end of the year by Wednesday evening. That would be lovely.
And now, my prescription awaits.