tv

I had grand plans to go up to Gone West this afternoon to go to a movie that is playing at one of Gone West's many special events for indie movies (I seriously cannot even think about that city without being sad that I don't live there), but my plans were felled by two things: 1. the guest room at the K.s' house was taken (taken!), and 2. all of my attention is required for breathing through the phlegm that has installed itself in my sinuses. I couldn't face the idea of sleeping on S.'s couch. I either can be sick or I can sleep on the couch in the middle of the living room to be interrupted by every person who gets up early for any reason and the cat that starts bustling around at 6 am wanting to be fed and petted. The two concepts cannot coexist.

And so I'm at my house in Universe City, loading up on ginger-honey tea (I added lemon until my mouth started hurting) and Season One of Prison Break. ("I don't watch tv," I often say, and it's true that we don't get any channels in our house, but in the last month or so I have rediscovered dvds and Bl0ckbuster and the library, and I'm catching up on tv shows that I didn't really know existed. This one could become as much of an obsession as the Pretender was a decade ago. And, if you do not know, I was thus obsessed with the Pretender: I videotaped every episode on Saturday nights and watched it repeatedly. I own all four seasons on dvd. I like the escaping and running shows.)

After watching ridiculous numbers of episodes of Prison Break, I'm going to sleep in my own bed. Hmm, yum. My own bed. Going to bed sounds blissful, except for that horrible head-full-of-snot feeling that keeps one from sleeping when infected by a bad cold.