So I'm still all ball-peeny. Going on three days now. If I miss another day of work, I'll have to figure out a way to get to one of the clinics and get a note from the doc.
Crap.
Wish I was well.
'Cause hard and stressful and full of infectious monkeys as it is, work as an increased income facilitator is finally starting to pay off. I gots me some mad money this paycheck.
Well, mad for me.
Which means that if I'm smart about it (and I give that some pretty long odds) I might just be able to start pulling my punk ass out of some of its debt. I might be able to get me some cool stuff for the impending move. Hell, I might be able to treat my friends for once.
Yay.
Now if I can just beat this bug, stop having my toes ache (I mean, what the fuck!?!?) and get my ass back in gear, life might start looking up.
The only upside today was The Boo being a slutty ghetto fabulous angel of mercy and bringing me sickness-supplies, and chatting all day with Her Royal Random Thighness, henceforth known as My Cybercrush.
Kinda lame, I know.
I've decided that while beating myself up over not working out, going out too much, and selling out is not a good thing, I ought to just write off the first month of the year and let the resolutions kick in during February. Sorta like the millennium didn't really start until 2001, the New Year ought not to officially start until the 2nd month of the year. January ought to be a sort of liminal time, a time without repercussions, a time to actually take time to figure one's shit out.
Rename the month Jamuary. Why the hell not?
So now I'm off to nap like a mofo and try to get healthy before tomorrow. Not that I hold out much hope, but hey, anything to avoid a trip to the Doc's.
Later dear blogodytes.
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