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12 December 2005


I went to a networking lunch today: W.I.S.K. Women I Should Know. I brought two copies of each of my current releases and sold three of them. Two of which went to the mother of a friend of my niece's. How cool is that? An hour after being back at work, I tossed my lunch in the bathroom and in the garbage can in my office. EW! I really hope the cleaning people come by this evening. After that, my wonderful day went downhill. I don't know if it was something I ate at the luncheon, last night at the Elephant Bar or if someone's playing the Tag, Your Sick game. My fiancee went home early today  from the same thing. Hell, I barely made it home myself. I drank an Alka Seltzer cocktail (y'know, the fizzy drinks with the artificial orangy taste?) and dozed off and on in our oven of a bedroom with the light on (because I just wanted to go to sleep, not  sleep-sleep), until Steven came in and crashed. This was close to 8pm. I crawled out of bed, thinking I should get something to eat...and promptly hurled the cocktail.

I want to call my Mommy, but my cell seems so far away. In my purse. Barely two feet from me. Hanging on the doorknob. I don't think I could handle the crawl. But I know what she would say, because, well, she's a Mom. "Have you eaten anything?" Are you shitting me, woman? Eat? Every time I so much as think about eating, my stomache says, "Homegirl, you must be crazy." I'll be lucky to keep a sip of water down, let alone the corner of a saltine cracker (not that we have any of those in the pantry). If Steven hadn't crashed out feeling all achy ("It's not the flu." Yeah. Whatever. MEN!!), he probably would've found some Chinese herbal cure to concoct in a pot. Denying being sick must be part of the male genetic code because I'm such a baby about it. In fact, I am a baby, all whiny and cranky.

And whoever came up with that "sicker than a dog" cliche needs to be boxed about the ears. I have no idea what a dog looks like or feels like when its sick, nor do I ever care to. I'm not about to compare myself to a dog when I'm sick, either. I'm coming up with a new one, dammit. "Sicker than a baby." Cuz I know what a baby looks like when its sick...and it ain't pretty.

Ugh! *long, bemoaned, sick-filled, sigh*. I hope this goes away before Christmas. Stick a plastic spork in me. I'm done.

posted by GeminiWisdom @ 7:25 PM |


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