Monday, February 23, 2009

Of Illness

Mrr. I turn into a big baby when I have the flu and there's someone taking care of me. I went to Greg's on Saturday because we had an altercation and it needed resolved. I drove to his place at exactly the time he was driving to my place - we more than likely passed each other on the road, actually. He arrived back after eleven and by that point I was worried sick. I had done the calculations, allowing for travel and questioning Phipps about why I wasn't where I said I would be, and he was LATE. Anyway, I don't have cell reception in Scotsville, so I had no way of calling him to see where he was. (He had been frantically calling me, as had Phipps, because they didn't know where I was.)

He arrived, I was still frantic, he was frantic, and we essentially kissed and made up right there. (I hope every fight happens this way, minus the travel-time.) Anyway, I was well into flu-land by that point, so Greg bundled me up in blankets and hauled out his pharmacy of flu/cough/cold medicine while cooking me a nourishing omelette (it was nearly 1 am by this point). I slept fitfully all night, because I refused Nyquil. (That was a miscalculation.)

I spent all of Sunday in bed, because I was too dizzy to stand up without falling over (I tried) and did not go to church or rehearsal. Greg made me chicken noodle soup (with rice noodles, the way I like) and we spent all day watching "Weeds" and sleeping intermittently. (I slept a lot.) That night, I turned into the biggest whiniest baby in the world while Greg insisted on cough medicine and Nyquil. He persisted. They tasted icky. But I did sleep.

This week, I will be moving out of my apartment and into a different one. Thank God. That is all I shall say about that.

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