Don’t Get Your Hopes Up
I’m sick. I think I already told you that but the lack of oxygen, due to a cold+asthma (that only shows itself when I’m sick… which is exactly when I most need it…), is making my brain function a bit haphazardly. I called C because I had to ask her a question and when she suggested writing on this here blogthing I was less than enthusiastic. “Who wants to hear “I’m sick, it sucks… c’est tout?” I asked her. However, I have spent most of the day watching documentaries and calling/texting people about my deep, deep desire to consume baked goods and/or donuts; I decided that I should do something that is at least interactive but not too mentally or physically taxing and not overly time consuming.
My memory has temporarily turned to amnesia for functional inspiration so forgive me if I repeat myself.
I had a plan for what to write about but have forgotten it. Hmmm…
CJ, a friend from school, is also sick. I sent her a recording of my voice, which is wheezy, gravelly, and randomly high pitched and faint (when I laugh I sound like a mouse on steroids… you can thank M for that analogy.) She responded with a recording of her coughing. We both sound awful in our respective ways. However, as much being sick sucks and as mean as it seems to say this, I’m thankful that I have someone to be sick with.
I hate being sick. I get exponentially crankier but also hyper concerned about others, leading me to avoid any and all public places and interactions because I don’t want to infect anyone. I wanted baked goods but couldn’t walk all the way to the store so I would have had to take the bus and then actually go into the store and I couldn’t bear the thought of foisting my insidious snot beastiness on anyone else no matter how much I wanted a fucking pastry or 10. So I stayed home, alone and without baked goods. While it does not make me happy that CJ is sick (it’s generally frowned upon to wish your friends ill, just FYI), since she is and I had nothing to do with her infection at least I has someone to commiserate with (and I hope she feels she has the same.) We all know that misery loves company and if we are one thing, CJ and I are definitely miserable.
When I texted her this morning about my baked goods need she fully understood. When I sent her a recording of my voice she was kind enough to play along and sent me a cough recording. Normal? Not particularly but normal has never been a serious goal of mine (an occasional desire, yes, but I never made any efforts to make it happen.) It made me feel better to know someone understood and was open to a trade, sympathy, and mutual morale boosts. It sucks that we’re both sick but it would suck more if we were sick alone.
Well, that is all I have the strength for. I’m going to go back to the documentary about ballerinas (I’ve watched one about Frank Lloyd Wright, one about a controversy surrounding a will and an art collection [not recommended- being sick lowers my standards for entertainment considerably and this one still did not meet them], one on the editor of Vogue magazine [which I ended up watching twice… no judging, I’m sick], one on food, one about a guy and his juicer [mind out of the gutter please], and one about MIlton Glaser. I’ve also watched a couple movies and 1 episode of a godawful, and thankfully cancelled, TV show about female executives and their problems (so bad that it was cancelled less than halfway through its first season… impressive.) I leave you with the following:
I like ballerinas. I’ve always wanted an awesome tutu. A dancer friend said my legs look like a modern dancer’s.
(Apparently that is important news that I should totally share with others and immortalize by releasing it into the interwebs…if only I cared enough to delete it… I like ellipses… someone send me a tutu please, and baked goods.)