I decided not to go to work this morning, because I woke up at quarter to 6, coughed up a lung, took a shower, coughed up the other lung, and passed out on my bed again. My mom, the saint that she is, called my boss and told her that she "won't let me go in to work." I love her dearly.
We've been getting into little skirmishes lately, maybe it's because I've been home from school for about 3 weeks now and the magic has finally worn off. Maybe it's because we're both hormonal women. Maybe it's just everything catching up with us. I'm not sure what it is, and neither is she, but we'll work it out regardless of the cause of our issues. She thinks I'm awesome and I think she's the bees knees, so we'll be fine.
So with my free day today I:
- went to the doctor. She told me I don't have strep (after giving me a throat culture, bleh) and it's probably just allergies (waitta make me feel like a hypochondriac)
- went to Target and got some new clothes for the trip, along with burt's bees lip gloss (A MUST) and goldfish crackers
- started packing, have since stopped packing, but continue to think about packing
- picked out some wine for the trip (we likes us some wine)
- played with the dawg and the cat (they have no idea I'm leaving for a week, but when they realize it they will be migh-tee pissed)
That's basically my life in a nut shell, and I feel so much more productive than had I gone to work today. Soo soo much more.
I also rediscovered this gem of music nostalgia.
And have since not stopped dancing around in my new clothes, with my dog, being generally awesome.
Oh man I just saw a commercial for Lake Compounce (in CT) and it totally reminded me of my 10th birthday (I think it was my tenth... best ask the madre later). We piled a whole bunch of kids into our car and my sister's car (my sister is 17 years older than me, married when I was 7, and now has two kids who are the LIGHT of my life, literally) and drove down to Lake Compounce, which if you don't know is an "amusement park." We had a great day of riding the water rides and being too short for the roller coasters and things like that (I hate rollercoasters anyway) UNTIL we decided to ride the swings. Me about about, oh 10 I would say, of my friends all on the swings, the ones that spins around and around and go so high you can see for miles. Used to be my favorite ride. On this particular ride I sat behind a group of boys. I was on the outside swing, my feet all dangling in the air, the wind all rushing through my unkempt red hair, the sounds of laughter and happiness all echoing in my ears. Then the ride began its descent, and just as my feet touched the ground, the boy in front of me THREW UP allll over the ground. The ride slowed down so much that the barf went right under him and right in front of ME! Best. Birthday. Ever.
Since then I've never really experienced much joy on the swings, except for the time my friends and I were at Hershey Park (PA) and we saw a woman in the middle of hitting her son get hit in the head with a shoe that sailed off the foot of a passenger on the swings. That'll learn her to hit her kid.
That reminds me. I turn nineteen next Thursday. Nine years since the barf incident. WOOP WOOP!
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