But fear not, reader. I will not go gentle into that good night. I am fighting this beast with mass quantities of ibuprofen and water and kitten cuddles and oh who am I kidding? I just threw up in an old popcorn bowl.
Really, I'm just asking for sympathy here. I staved this thing off all through the BlogHer '12 conference, and this is the price I have to pay for my troubles.
[From that last sentence to the one after this aside, insert TWO HOURS of writhing in pain, the loss of 24 hours worth of food and water, bloating up like I was nine months pregnant, and crying about the stabbing pains in my head. Oh, the joys!]
I am still refusing to go gently with this damn flu, but all I have the gumption for is a list, so here goes:
- I went to BlogHer '12, and, although I know BlogHer recaps are your very favourite of things, all I can tell you right now is that it was fast and fulfilling and exhausting and bountiful and it gave me the flu.
- Lula's new trick is to peel all the bandaids off my feet with her teeth while I succumb to fevered dreams about Bret Michaels' burial at sea. She's disgusting.
- We delivered our letter of offer on a home we really want to be ours, which I don't need to tell you, because you can pretty much assume that if we are going to go through the work of delivering a letter of offer on a home, we probably actually want it.
- I feel much better about that carrot cake cookie sandwich filled with cream cheese icing that I didn't eat earlier, because that would have made all the throwing up I'm doing even sadder than it already is.
- Tomorrow afternoon, I have to make myself look like I'm not half-dead with the flu so that the bank will give us money. The bank loves self-employed ladies who look all wilty, right?
- This point's just a thank you for reading this. You're sweet.
- I'm listening to the Palinode crunch on Triscuits right now, and everytime I think about punching him, I just say "I love you" instead. This is my number one piece of marriage advice.