(no subject)
God damn. The last two days of my life are a complete void, moreso than usual, I mean.
I took some flu tabsule things on Tuesday evening (that were huge and tasted like chocolate, and I may have taken one or two too many, but I was feeling so rotten I didn't think anything could possibly make me feel worse) Then I flipped on my CD player to try and relax but instead promptly fell into the deepest deepest sleep (I'm glad I decided against a bath-) I woke up that night at some odd and wonderful dark hour, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf, burning hot, and for some reason I got up and wrote that sad trash of the last post. Then I somehow staggered to the couch, cocooned myself in a blanket, and fell asleep again. I only woke up two hours ago, to find days had passed and nine inch nails STILL playing, stuck on repeat, (I do love you, but not that much) the neighbours must have been ready to rope in the police. Oh! being home alone is a strange strange thing when one is ill - partly because it's when all you are wanting is to be nurtured and held and brought cups of ginger and lemongrass tea, and partly because I could have died, and no one would have known until my aunt walked in from her holiday to find my stinking putrescent cadaver sprawled across her newly upholstered couch with Trent screaming his lungs out in the background. I'm sure she'd find some way to hit me with the dry-cleaning bill.
I took some flu tabsule things on Tuesday evening (that were huge and tasted like chocolate, and I may have taken one or two too many, but I was feeling so rotten I didn't think anything could possibly make me feel worse) Then I flipped on my CD player to try and relax but instead promptly fell into the deepest deepest sleep (I'm glad I decided against a bath-) I woke up that night at some odd and wonderful dark hour, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf, burning hot, and for some reason I got up and wrote that sad trash of the last post. Then I somehow staggered to the couch, cocooned myself in a blanket, and fell asleep again. I only woke up two hours ago, to find days had passed and nine inch nails STILL playing, stuck on repeat, (I do love you, but not that much) the neighbours must have been ready to rope in the police. Oh! being home alone is a strange strange thing when one is ill - partly because it's when all you are wanting is to be nurtured and held and brought cups of ginger and lemongrass tea, and partly because I could have died, and no one would have known until my aunt walked in from her holiday to find my stinking putrescent cadaver sprawled across her newly upholstered couch with Trent screaming his lungs out in the background. I'm sure she'd find some way to hit me with the dry-cleaning bill.