I've been gone for too long, buried in the internet-less dead zone of my apartment. I didn't mind so much - my apartment has too much heat and a red vine-covered duvet that I am in love with and paper lamps that create this warm glow and an attack kitty and a cupboard full of tea and ibuprofen - but I feel like I've been out of the world for weeks, huddled under my covers with nothing but books and an annoying jazz station and random television shows punctuated by waking up to make an ibuprofen, dimetapp and tea run to the kitchen. I finally gave in and took Africa-procured antibiotics whose dosage I couldn't exactly remember and of course the internet wasn't working so I guessed. Some days it turns out I took too much, resulting in some days at the end with no antibiotics to take. Hopefully I don't relapse, because I can imagine how much a real doctor is going to like my "I took this amoxicillin from Africa in my own made-up dosage..." This is why they don't let people like me be in charge of our own antibiotics.
I say the same thing every time I wear this one white shirt that I have, which I do spill on, every time. I keep wondering why they let me do such things. Someone should stop me. We all know I can't handle a white t-shirt. And yet it's so soft and cozy and comfortable, especially when it's been washed with fabric softener and I wear it and then I spill again. Always. Why do they let me do this?
I feel better, though, and have since about hour 18 of taking antibiotics. Stupid every cold turning into something more. The number of sinus and throat and ear and etc. infections I have gotten from colds in the last four years is approximately equal to the number of colds I've had. Give or take one cold.
Anyway, I have returned, somewhat reluctantly, to the world of those who leave their apartments and check their email and read their assignments and go to class. And I'm not sure I like it out here. I'm seriously considering crawling back into bed, expecially now that my roof no longer leaks and my floor is almost dry and my duvet is no longer getting soaked through every time a drop of rain falls on the roof. I think it's going to be better this way, without all that excess water.
I say the same thing every time I wear this one white shirt that I have, which I do spill on, every time. I keep wondering why they let me do such things. Someone should stop me. We all know I can't handle a white t-shirt. And yet it's so soft and cozy and comfortable, especially when it's been washed with fabric softener and I wear it and then I spill again. Always. Why do they let me do this?
I feel better, though, and have since about hour 18 of taking antibiotics. Stupid every cold turning into something more. The number of sinus and throat and ear and etc. infections I have gotten from colds in the last four years is approximately equal to the number of colds I've had. Give or take one cold.
Anyway, I have returned, somewhat reluctantly, to the world of those who leave their apartments and check their email and read their assignments and go to class. And I'm not sure I like it out here. I'm seriously considering crawling back into bed, expecially now that my roof no longer leaks and my floor is almost dry and my duvet is no longer getting soaked through every time a drop of rain falls on the roof. I think it's going to be better this way, without all that excess water.
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