Con crud takes the scarlettina
It's here: full-blown, nose-blowing, cough-inducing con crud. God, I feel awful. I'm supposed to work today. I'm supposed to fast and then go for a sonogram to check out my gall bladder this afternoon. It's supposed to snow today. And later this afternoon, I'm supposed to present an hour-long training (via LiveMeeting, so I won't be breathing on anyone) to my editorial team on editing animated PowerPoint presentations . . . but I sound like Howard's mother from The Big Bang Theory.
All I want to do is stay in bed, take cough medicine, and sleep.
I've waited a month for this appointment. This fast-required appointment. When I got up, all I could think about was breakfast. I made two slices of toast, and just as I was about to start buttering them, I realized that I'm not supposed to eat. Now the house is filled with the smell of toast and I'm ravenous. I've never smelled anything that smelled so good as toast.
I hate today.
All I want to do is stay in bed, take cough medicine, and sleep.
I've waited a month for this appointment. This fast-required appointment. When I got up, all I could think about was breakfast. I made two slices of toast, and just as I was about to start buttering them, I realized that I'm not supposed to eat. Now the house is filled with the smell of toast and I'm ravenous. I've never smelled anything that smelled so good as toast.
I hate today.