Here is yesterday's picture, of a humongous wasp that was on the inside of Pack Place while I, thankfully, was on the outside. I dragged my sick self to work yesterday, then came home early. Then, last night, naturally I did all the things you're not supposed to do when you're sick. Yes. ALL of them. Every single thing your mother ever told you not to do when you're sick, I did. Except go to Broadways; I didn't do that. If your mother forgot to tell you not to go to Broadways when you're sick, let me tell you now. Don't go to Broadways when you're sick, because simply walking in the door is the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigarettes and then you'll smoke another one while you're there in self defense. However, except for Broadways I did everything bad.
That's probably why today I think I feel fine except for a runny nose. I'm not sure, because for some peculiar reason I've been awake since 4:20 when I came straight up out of some completely inexplicable dream involving my ankle and N and a woolly sock or possibly it was a sheep and couldn't get back to sleep. I've been wandering around the house in a succession of increasingly bizarrre clothes since then, since I'm either too hot or too cold and nothing feels quite right. Also, it's boring around here at 5:30 in the morning and rooting through the piles of clothes in my room is at least something to do. I woke N up for a while but he's gone back to sleep like a sensible person now.
I can't believe it's 9:30 am on a Saturday and I've been awake for five hours. This is ridiculous; I must be turning into my mother, who at this point apparently sleeps for about 2 and a half hours a night. I can't stand it. I don't like being awake in the morning and, if insomnia must hit, why can't it be on a work day for heaven's sake? Maybe I used up my weekly sleep quota on the flu; I did sleep for pretty much three solid days. I hope not though, because I really would like to go back to sleep soon.
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