In which illness is the order of the day.
Friday was St. Pat’s and I was excited to go out that night, so naturally I poisoned myself with some 4-day old soup and spent the afternoon puking. (I haven’t given myself food poisoning since I was a student at MIU about ten years ago and ate some week-old butter, and had to leave the bandstand in between songs to throw up. Talk about a hell gig!)
Saturday we had a BBQ! At our house! YAY! BoS and Truck & Amazon Blonde came out and we pigged out — I had tuna, they had steak and ribs and brats. There was salad. I made key lime bars. There was beer and bloody marys and jager bombs. Dogs ran around everywhere and crunched happily on rib bones. A good time was had by all. I tried to have a bloody mary but my tummy wasn’t into it. I ended up napping and blowing off our guests.
Saturday night I got sick, and woke up Sunday with a stuffy nose and a congested chest and that tight, icky feeling that says you’re getting a raunchy cold!
Groan.
Bread went off to Cedar Rapids this morning so I’m all alone with my chest cold. Going up to the barn to get kindling and out to the garage for firewood sucked and I had to take a nap afterward, before I could even build a fire.
Heating with wood has totally lost its freakin’ charm, people. I want central goddamned heat and that’s final.
Right now I’m listening to WNYC programs on my iPod and listening to the dogs bark their heads off outside and trying to pay some bills over dial-up. I want DSL. I think I’ll go see if there are any movies on pay-per-view and hold the couch down. Maybe the good fairy will show up and make me tea and soup.
In other news, I haven’t brushed my hair in two weeks. It’s bad. Really bad. Like, it’s gonna take hours to untangle it bad.
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I don’t know how you survive an Iowa winter with only a wood stove. I would’ve been screaming back in October. When I go to guitar camp, the entire house is heated by one woodstove. 25 women, one 3’x3′ stove. Anyone warming her fanny too long gets “the look,” because not only is she not sharing, she’s blocking any radiation that might’ve otherwise reached our poor frozen tuchuses. Or is that tuchi?
feel better soon!
i’m making soup and tea for you over here on the west coast, but getting it to you may take awhile, so i’ll have to consume it for you too.
mush- I had food poisoning once and it was so bad that I never eat anything in the fridge older than 2 days except maybe yogurt. Yeah, central heading is a must. I never thought of it as a luxury 😉
central heating good!! being sick sucks!!!
i’m sorry you’re not feeling well and don’t have a good elf there to take care of you in your hours of need. were i there i’d stoke the fire, cook you soup, make you hot lemon tea and maybe, just maybe, buy you some grocery store tabloid rags to rot your brain on (one must have them when one is sick).
but i’m not. so i’ll stay here and work on the damned paper that’s due on wednesday night.
Poor mush. If you were within 100 miles or less, I’d make you some homemade vegetable soup, and bring it on over. Hope you feel better soon.
Sounds like you and I had similar weekends. I am such a lazy fucking sloth and I am using a cold to rationalize how disgustingly unmotivated and lazy I am–sounds like you have a real one though, so I hope you get better. I haven’t used the word “kindling” since Girl Scouts! I am going to start using it more…
Like, it’s gonna take hours to untangle it bad.
Oooo. Like when I’m turning a skein of yarn into a ball of yarn and end up with a big, knotty mess before the skein’s through.
I feel for you, child.
Are you still sick? Get better soon. I miss chatting with you *so* much.
The day is just draggin’.
Maybe, along with the tea and soup, the good fairy can bring you some soothing DSL.
And, Sister Spikey Mace, I suggest you and your guitar camp chicas keep each others’ asses warm by spooning… naked, of course.
A sister can’t get no love at camp…too many lesbians, which is not a problem at all for me, but I have several opinions that say I give off such a het vibe that my hopes for girl-girl spooning are less than zero It is not intentional, I assure you. I wore a tank top and short-shorts to an Indigo Girls concert and couldn’t even get a second look.
Who knew?