still sick
Nov. 11th, 2006 07:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
impyThe mutant cold [and let's be honest, I always say they are] is kicking. My. Ass. It's not cool. Yesterday-ish, Thursday that is, I woke up feeling peachy. Thirty minutes later I thought someone was playing a cosmic joke on me. However shitty I felt that night was nothing compared to how I felt last night.
First there was the dream in which I was in the middle of a rant, and bam. My alarm goes off. Waking up like that? Makes for a very grumpy me. It takes me three minutes to haul my sorry butt out of bed [an eternity when you have maybe 15 minutes from the time your alarm goes off until you should be walking out the door] and when I stand up, I damn near fall flat on my ass. My sinuses are all fucked up, my left eye immediately begins watering, and oh yeah, I can't breathe. So I flail about and seriously debate calling in. Somehow I convince myself that I can't do that, despite the fact that I'm dying.
It gets worse. From the dizziness to the fact that my depth perception was so screwed it wasn't funny, and back again to when it felt like everything inside my head dried up. Owowow. I should have been asleep, man. But no. No, I went and listened to someone bitch. I probably gave my cold to a billion people.
And I made an extra five bucks. Which brings me to my announcement of the day:
If you go into a store, particularely mine, and you drop some money, here's what not to do: Do not ignore each and every employee who asks if you need help, if you need help finding something, if perhaps you have lost something, or anything along those lines. Because I'm not going to take your money and wave it in your face and say, "Come and get it, bitch." I'm a) not sure it's yours and b) sick, so talking hurts.
I swear, the dumbass was obviously looking for his cash and everytime I went to say, "hey, is this yours?" he'd cut his eyes at me and stalk out the door. Well fuck you too, asshole. I tried to help.
Is it wrong that I'm positively giddy over ordering jeans and matching underwear? If so, woe. For I am giddy. There is much in the way of giddy over here.
Hmm. I'm hungry, but my taste buds are still funky. I wonder if there's anything worth eating.
Finished Witchling which was interesting. Not as fab as I'd hoped, but it can't all be superfantastic. It shows promise and it's interesting enough that I'm miffed that the next book isn't out until July next year. Oi. Still, it switches from the witch to the were-Tabby, so that should be fun. Yes. Were-Tabby. Woo!
My ears itch.
First there was the dream in which I was in the middle of a rant, and bam. My alarm goes off. Waking up like that? Makes for a very grumpy me. It takes me three minutes to haul my sorry butt out of bed [an eternity when you have maybe 15 minutes from the time your alarm goes off until you should be walking out the door] and when I stand up, I damn near fall flat on my ass. My sinuses are all fucked up, my left eye immediately begins watering, and oh yeah, I can't breathe. So I flail about and seriously debate calling in. Somehow I convince myself that I can't do that, despite the fact that I'm dying.
It gets worse. From the dizziness to the fact that my depth perception was so screwed it wasn't funny, and back again to when it felt like everything inside my head dried up. Owowow. I should have been asleep, man. But no. No, I went and listened to someone bitch. I probably gave my cold to a billion people.
And I made an extra five bucks. Which brings me to my announcement of the day:
If you go into a store, particularely mine, and you drop some money, here's what not to do: Do not ignore each and every employee who asks if you need help, if you need help finding something, if perhaps you have lost something, or anything along those lines. Because I'm not going to take your money and wave it in your face and say, "Come and get it, bitch." I'm a) not sure it's yours and b) sick, so talking hurts.
I swear, the dumbass was obviously looking for his cash and everytime I went to say, "hey, is this yours?" he'd cut his eyes at me and stalk out the door. Well fuck you too, asshole. I tried to help.
Is it wrong that I'm positively giddy over ordering jeans and matching underwear? If so, woe. For I am giddy. There is much in the way of giddy over here.
Hmm. I'm hungry, but my taste buds are still funky. I wonder if there's anything worth eating.
Finished Witchling which was interesting. Not as fab as I'd hoped, but it can't all be superfantastic. It shows promise and it's interesting enough that I'm miffed that the next book isn't out until July next year. Oi. Still, it switches from the witch to the were-Tabby, so that should be fun. Yes. Were-Tabby. Woo!
My ears itch.
