Fountain of Snot in the Shape of a Girl
This weekend I did nothing.
That didn't come out the way I planned it. Usually, when I say those words, I'm trying to indicate that I've finally had an opportunity to relax - so allow me to rephrase:
This weekend I did nothing and it was terrible.
I am sick. I am afflicted with some kind of sinus-killing, headache-inducing, snot virus that has left me weak as a kitten, which is why I did not attend my co-worker's birthday party, or the Ball of Justice (even though I had a fantastic outfit!), or the comic book convention, or the Bring Your Own Big Wheel Races in the rain. Every time I tried to do anything more physically demanding than reading a history of salt or rearranging my closet, I would be struck down by a sudden urge to nap.
Today appears to hold more of the same. Every time I try to argue with trolls about licensing issues in Second Life or look up fair use legislation from 2007, my vision goes blurry and I feel as if someone is stabbing me in the forehead with a knife, and all that I want to do is close my eyes and sleep. I foresee an evening of lying sprawled out on my couch with a cat and a blanket, despairing over the buttons which have not been sewn onto things, and pictures that have not been hung on walls, my widening thighs and rapidly-atrophying triceps, red eyes and chapped nose, missing out on classes and rehearsals and nightclubs and parties and all kinds of mysterious "fun" that I could be having if only I was not pinned down by gravity, impersonating a beached sea mammal.
Send tea. Send Sudafed. Send a housekeeper. Send motivation. Send choreography. Send stronger arms. And quickly, before I fall asleep...
That didn't come out the way I planned it. Usually, when I say those words, I'm trying to indicate that I've finally had an opportunity to relax - so allow me to rephrase:
This weekend I did nothing and it was terrible.
I am sick. I am afflicted with some kind of sinus-killing, headache-inducing, snot virus that has left me weak as a kitten, which is why I did not attend my co-worker's birthday party, or the Ball of Justice (even though I had a fantastic outfit!), or the comic book convention, or the Bring Your Own Big Wheel Races in the rain. Every time I tried to do anything more physically demanding than reading a history of salt or rearranging my closet, I would be struck down by a sudden urge to nap.
Today appears to hold more of the same. Every time I try to argue with trolls about licensing issues in Second Life or look up fair use legislation from 2007, my vision goes blurry and I feel as if someone is stabbing me in the forehead with a knife, and all that I want to do is close my eyes and sleep. I foresee an evening of lying sprawled out on my couch with a cat and a blanket, despairing over the buttons which have not been sewn onto things, and pictures that have not been hung on walls, my widening thighs and rapidly-atrophying triceps, red eyes and chapped nose, missing out on classes and rehearsals and nightclubs and parties and all kinds of mysterious "fun" that I could be having if only I was not pinned down by gravity, impersonating a beached sea mammal.
Send tea. Send Sudafed. Send a housekeeper. Send motivation. Send choreography. Send stronger arms. And quickly, before I fall asleep...