The first step to recovery is getting off the couch...

Six days! Six whole days I haven´t left this house save for a trip to the grocery store and a trip to the doctor's.
Believe it or not, I'm almost looking forward to a day of increased income facilitation tomorrow.
Not because I suddenly love my job, I'm not that crazed.
More because I can leave this apartment!
I can't believe I lost an entire week to this stupid 'flu.
And to make matters worse, I did nothing productive. Not a damned thing.
No laundry.
No dishes.
No cleaning.
No Master's applications.
No job-hunting.
Nada.
The only thing I did was chat on MSN, surf the everlovin' web, watch DVD's and pimp out the links section of the blog.
Of course I later wimped out and removed the "Links that will make my mom blush" section, not for fear of la madre's reaction, more for fear of having prudish possible employers of me get cold in the feets.
The one ray on sunshine over this otherwise drab as dirt weekend was last night's visit by the ever-so-lovely Þórunn Sóley who came over to eat fried rice and watch Robot Chicken and Jericho with me. She actually wound eating breakfast with me too.
Not what you think you dirty-minded little blogapervs!
See, this being the first weekend of the month, there wasn't a taxi to be had in all of Rvk. Honestly.
We called for hours!
"Network Busy, Please Try Again" was all we got for our pains.
So she crashed on the couch.
But it was great to have some company.
Six days stuck at home with the 'flu is bad. But six days stuck at home with the 'flu with mostly only the company of your roommate's sister and fiance who you don't know from Adam is really really trying. Not that the house guests were anything other than perfectly fun and polite, it just kinda sucked.
So now I'm debating what to do with my somewhat recovered punk-ass this afternoon. Do I write a killer blog about politics and society? Do I do laundry and give this sty a good once-over? Do I bundle up and hit the hot-pot for a good hour's soak and free myself of the assorted creakiness of my muscles? Do I go see my Félo client that I haven't managed to see lately?
Or do I spend one more day laying around and doing diddly-squat?
I honestly can't decide.
Anywho, you've got your RHOTW...I think I´m starting to develop a fixation for masked women...
More later dear blogodytes...Sma out!