Thoughts From the Sick Bed
Monday: After a restless night of non-sleep I woke up groggy-eyed but surprised to see what I thought looked like a perfect head of dreamy, tousled, lingering morning after, bed-head hair. The perfect combo of sex, sleepiness, wave and muss. Game on!
Venturing out in my sweats to pick up some meds at Walgreens, flaunting my mane like a feverish, flu-infested Cindy Crawford, I was attacked not once, but twice, by a bird.
Must remember: Nothing looks good when you're sick. Bed-head as a carefully constructed hairdo is one thing; bed-head as a lazy alternative to effort and a brush is a whole different ballgame.
Tuesday: Having your fever break at 3 in the morning and waking up drenched in a pool of sweat is not cause to celebrate with a run later that day. Or a paddle. No matter how infinitesimally better you feel or how slow you go.
Wednesday: I used to think Tango and Cash was so cheesy it was good. It's not. It's almost unbearable. Although maybe that's the flu talking. It's hard to watch in one sitting. Point Break is in the same category. But not Roadhouse. Or The Replacements. Not yet.
Venturing out in my sweats to pick up some meds at Walgreens, flaunting my mane like a feverish, flu-infested Cindy Crawford, I was attacked not once, but twice, by a bird.
Must remember: Nothing looks good when you're sick. Bed-head as a carefully constructed hairdo is one thing; bed-head as a lazy alternative to effort and a brush is a whole different ballgame.
Tuesday: Having your fever break at 3 in the morning and waking up drenched in a pool of sweat is not cause to celebrate with a run later that day. Or a paddle. No matter how infinitesimally better you feel or how slow you go.
Wednesday: I used to think Tango and Cash was so cheesy it was good. It's not. It's almost unbearable. Although maybe that's the flu talking. It's hard to watch in one sitting. Point Break is in the same category. But not Roadhouse. Or The Replacements. Not yet.
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