Three Days. So Many Lozenges.

Well, my sick day went as planned. Sort of.

Monday night (after blogging), I couldn’t sleep. I would finally be almost comfortable when my body would be racked with chills. My skin hurt. I was a mess. I was smart enough to email my boss that night so I didn’t have to worry about my alarm clock in the morning.

Tuesday

The nice thing about being sick is that I have an excuse to do nothing. I practically ate lozenges for breakfast. No voice either. Unfortunately, daytime television sucks, and when I’m ill, I get ADD. I can’t concentrate on anything. No reading, no plot lines. So I ended up watching E!’s Ultimate Blonde series. I couldn’t believe they considered Leo DiCaprio to be a blond.

The cable guy came. He didn’t call in advance (like I was told he would), so I didn’t get any primping time. Fortunately I had already changed out of my pink sweatpants about an hour earlier. He went to the cable box outside and had me yell out the window when my cable connected and disconnected. That would usually be a decent strategy, but I had no voice. So I just whispered out the window as best I could. And now my Internet works.

On the Lot is on its way out. It gets worse every week. And the host can’t speak without fumbling. Not to sound sexist, but I generally don’t enjoy female hosts (with the exception of Cat Deeley on So You Think You Can Dance. But she’s British, so she’s automatically exponentially better than the Americans).

Wednesday

I called in sick again. I probably could have survived work, but I needed a day to catch up on the sleep I didn’t get the night before. The chills had subsided, but the coughing had started. Still not much of a voice. Getting better is boring.

Oprah is a little more interesting than yesterday. A holocaust survivor forgives the daughter of her torturer. A gay man befriends the ex-skinhead who once beat him and left him for dead. I love forgiveness stories. I’ve started reading The Sunflower: On the Possibilities and Limits of Forgiveness. I’ll talk more about that later. Later, Dr. Phil convinces me to never weigh 700 pounds.

My mom is now on facebook. My entire immediate family is. I have no idea if this means we’re all incredibly hip or just nerds.

I can’t stand TV anymore. Too much in two days. I went to bed early and read Clara Callan. So good. Again, I’ll tell you more about it later.

Unfortunately, Wednesday’s sick day meant I missed Camp Day at Tim Horton’s, and I missed the free Dr. Draw concert downtown.

Thursday

I went to work today. I was the first person in the office. Good thing I have a key and know the alarm codes. I like working in the early morning quiet. Everyone asks how I am, and then, in their awkward paranoia, want to know the order in which my symptoms came to see whether or not their own maladies are somehow linked to mine.

I consumed an abnormal amount of gum and lozenges just to avoid coughing fits. And I made it through the day without too much suffering. And then Paris got released and we all freaked out. In the words of my coworker, “What the blood clot?!” Yeah. I have an issue with spoiled rich kids who have panic attacks (or drug withdrawals) that get them out of jail for psychological reasons. What about the innocent people freaking out on death row? They probably cry too. Sheesh. She hopes that others will learn from her mistakes. Maybe she should learn from her own.

I didn’t want to go home and sit on my couch after work, so I headed to Yonge and Eglinton, tried on some clothes (no purchasing as per usual), and caught the flick Knocked Up. It is not my usual choice of movie. I don’t typically laugh at jokes related to porn, drugs, illicit sex, and all forms of vulgarity, but this movie had something that most of its kind don’t: heart. I found it surprisingly relatable, and man-boys even grow up a little (very refreshing). And for all of its raunchiness, it had a moral core. Abortion would have made more sense. Divorce for one couple seemed imminent. But this film had people fighting for each other even more than they fought with each other. Hard to recommend, but a nice change from the typical frat-boy fare.

And now I’m going to bed. And I will blog again soon. Because I’m connected. All the time.