My tiny little baby of a sister-in-law is coming to visit soon, which is awesome. She wants us to come see a show in the city with her and her boyfriend...at TEN O'CLOCK PM ON A TUESDAY. That's when the show STARTS. What the hell does she think I am? Not super old? Even if we knocked over a Starbuck's on the way there and then did lines in the bathroom, it would still be out of the question. OUT. OF. THE. QUESTION.
I've been sick and bed-ridden the last two days, trading off my time between sleeping and feeling horribly sorry for myself. All of my dreams were a deeply troubling mixture of dark maroon and pungent orange, the unmistakable colors of DayQuil & NyQuil. And they smelled like cat breath.
It felt mostly good to be back at work today, although it seemed cruel that my coworkers expected me to DO THINGS like ANSWER THE PHONE or REPLY TO THEIR EMAILS. The nerve. While protesting their demands by cruising Facebook, I saw that a friend of mine is looking for a cat sitter. For two weeks. At her home. IN HAWAII. Ah, I know which dream will be turned into frightful colors with NyQuil's rosy hue tonight!
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