Tales Of Daring-Do, Bad And Good Luck Tales
I'm fighting a cold. I say "fighting" instead of "getting" because I have, on occasion, been able to keep from getting a full-blown cold by treating myself (going off of my diet, overdosing on orange juice, staying wrapped up and warm, and resting as much as humanly possible) at the first sign of symptoms. Even when I can't prevent one, I'm usually able to blow (no pun intended) through one much more quickly this way.
Unfortunately, I feel the troops losing. While physically I don't feel too much worse than I did yesterday, the auditory torture is beginning. I'm well enough to recognize it happening, I'm not well enough to stave it off.
Basically, this is what's going on in my head right now.
The Last Vestige Of Crissy's Sanity: "All right, I need to complete this form for the four bosses and the fifth sub-boss..."
Crissy's Sickness: "Picture yourself on a train in a station, with plasticine porters with looking glass ties..."
Vestige: "Shut UP. 1,227.97 tons at $44.72 per ton equals--"
The Sickness: "And in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me."
Vestige: "Yes sir, our fax number is 718-458-51--"
The Sickness: "IT'S THE MOST, WONDERFUL TIIIIME, OF THE YEAR!"
Vestige: "God, I can't believe I didn't get to work out yesterday, first it was the friggen hamstring, now this."
The Sickness: "My Sharona! Doo-doo-do, do, de, doo-doo-do, do, de!"
Vestige: "FECK, I just had to scan that stupid thing three times, I don't know why I'm making so many mistakes today."
The Sickness: "Playing with the queen of hearts, knowing it ain't really smart."
Vestige: "Oh, come on, I don't even know that song!"
The Sickness: "All we wanna do is eat your brains."
Vestige: "Fair enough." ::crumbles::
Unfortunately, I feel the troops losing. While physically I don't feel too much worse than I did yesterday, the auditory torture is beginning. I'm well enough to recognize it happening, I'm not well enough to stave it off.
Basically, this is what's going on in my head right now.
The Last Vestige Of Crissy's Sanity: "All right, I need to complete this form for the four bosses and the fifth sub-boss..."
Crissy's Sickness: "Picture yourself on a train in a station, with plasticine porters with looking glass ties..."
Vestige: "Shut UP. 1,227.97 tons at $44.72 per ton equals--"
The Sickness: "And in your dreams, whatever they be, dream a little dream of me."
Vestige: "Yes sir, our fax number is 718-458-51--"
The Sickness: "IT'S THE MOST, WONDERFUL TIIIIME, OF THE YEAR!"
Vestige: "God, I can't believe I didn't get to work out yesterday, first it was the friggen hamstring, now this."
The Sickness: "My Sharona! Doo-doo-do, do, de, doo-doo-do, do, de!"
Vestige: "FECK, I just had to scan that stupid thing three times, I don't know why I'm making so many mistakes today."
The Sickness: "Playing with the queen of hearts, knowing it ain't really smart."
Vestige: "Oh, come on, I don't even know that song!"
The Sickness: "All we wanna do is eat your brains."
Vestige: "Fair enough." ::crumbles::