whinging on and on and on and on

I'm sick. Bleh. Goddamn, yeah, I know I'm sick all the time, Greg. Get off my back. Actually, come over here and rub it, cuz I'm all achy (coughcough). I tried to get a magic elixer from my doc, but apparently those things only available in fantasy novels and Amsterdam. I'll spare you my symptoms, but the doc did give me Codeine Cough Syrup From Hell. Before you go thinking this is a M.E., don't. It left me hungover for hours. Christ, I could barely get out of bed this morning. I've made it clear that tomorrow I'm NOT getting out of bed.

Oh yeah. It's a school day. Crap.

Don't do drugs, people, unless you really need them.

I wrote most of a futuristic short story today called AWOL. I think, I hope, it's pretty good. It's got a cynical tone, which is sad cuz the guy is like seventeen. I'd submit to my critique group, but I think they really want more of Sean. That's a good thing, right?

Current excuses:

1. Sick. Didn't see that one coming, didya?
2. Christmas stuff still out and I loathe the sight of it.
3. Out-of-work, bored husband hanging around. He wants to talk to me all the time.
4. Still returning crap.
5. Friday is cleaning day, established by bored, out-of-work husband since we had to let my cleaning lady go. He gets antsy when he doesn't have anybody to manage.
6. Editing some things for friends.

Speaking of my cleaning lady, she apparently hates me now. I tried to call and apologize about how I handled it (I don't play well with others, never have) but it did no good. WTF?

This weekend is the kid's seventh birthday party (lazer tag. Yeah, bash of the year) and then the next two are three day weekends up at the lake! Snowboards, here I come!

Did I mention I'm sick? Insert sympathy below.

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