What I Did On My Sick Day, A Non-Essay

[ase]

Today I emailed in sick, took several naps, and called a doctor. I watched TV and took my temperature umpteen times, making my temperature bounce a degree or so by drinking cold gatorade or hot tea. At no point was it near my norm, and sometimes I got it as high as three degrees off. Yay scorching hot tea! Eventually my landlord appeared, as did another crop of potential roommates. I snuck out to the grocery store, and grabbed takeout on the way home. If I never see canned chicken soup again it will not be too soon. Now I'm wide awake, but pretty sure I need to at least try to go to work tomorrow.

Irony points: the only new-to-me DVDs in the house are House S3. So I sniffled my way through multiple episodes of weird infections, cardiac arrest, multiple organ failure, genetic disease, and emitting blood from every orifice imaginable. Then I watched Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles (the show would get my slavish devotion if it didn't feature Summer Glau playing another crazy chick) for my weekly explosives quotient. Sadly, I tried and failed to read anything more weighty than blogs today, even the YA fantasy novel that's been kicking around my room for weeks. I guess that's why they call it sick.

Comments

[ashcomp.livejournal.com]

(the show would get my slavish devotion if it didn't feature Summer Glau playing another crazy chick)

Want to get that girl to work for free? Offer a role as an overweight, loudmouthed community organizer in a slum. Her contribution to the violence can be,say, calling the cops.

[ase.livejournal.com]

I have no idea if that was supposed to be funny, but I'm not seeing a punchline.

[ashcomp.livejournal.com]

Not funny particularly, just an observation. She would probably kill for a role where she was not some kind of real or figurative combat machine. Something that might bring out the actress instead of the dancer, and break the typecasting.

[hourglasscreate.livejournal.com]

I haven't checked LJ in weeks, but the next time you are sick, *call* me. I will make you home made chicken soup. Much better than the canned stuff.

[ase.livejournal.com]

The canned stuff was right there. Calling means 1.) thinking to call, 2.) calling, and 3.) waiting for chicken soup to magically appear on my doorstep.

Now that the option's been brought up, I will take ruthless advantage in future.