Still coughing

I think, at this rate, I'm calling in to work. I haven't felt this shitty in years. Stupid cold weather.

I wasn't up for joining beatgoddess' BYOD (that's for dessert) party this evening and mostly hid in my room for it, coughing and being self-pitying. At one point morlock tiptoed into my room with a cup of ginger ale and some appreciated sympathy, even though when I told sundart about it a few minutes later I got an attack of the "people being nice to me!" problem. That, plus stressing about work and school, being fretful to begin with, and missing the boy more than usual, not to mention my entire respiratory tract hurting tipped me right over into a full blown bawl. sundart hugged me, petted my head, brought me hot tea, then read me The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales and Ferdinand the Bull, which made me smile, and then she curled up next to me and we went to sleep.

Woke back up around 12:30, checked in about how the party went with beatgoddess. Methinks my next stop will be a hot steamy shower.

Seriously you guys, can I be done with the bronchitis batshit circus now?

and to add insult to injury

Trillian has stopped working on my computer.

Dickless grandmother of a program. Bash it good.

3 am castrati

I feel a bit like I'm in one of those old 1950's science fiction movies tonight, as beatgoddess is listening to samples of Alessandro Moreschi recordings, and either due to the recording quality (they do date from like 1904) or because of this man's voice, I'm very strongly reminded of a theremin. It's a little freaky, to tell you the truth - Moreschi was the last castrato ever. And the only one to make it onto any sort of recordable medium. It's kind of boggling to think about how a vocal quality like that, fairly odd sounding to modern ears was fairly commonplace two hundred years ago.

Suddenly I have this unholy urge to both rent Farinelli again and reread Anne Rice's Cry To Heaven...

If I could save ice in a bottle...

Wow.

I don't know what it is about melted snow (pollution? rock salt? silt? something in its very snowly nature?) but when you melt it and then pour it into something clear, then shake it up and hold it to the sun, there is something sparkly floating in it. instant snow globe. Literally. Pretty....

In other news: cough. hack. ow. bleh.

Meh...

I feel like shit.

No scratch that. I feel like death warmed over the fourth day. In the microwave, so I'm all crusty and hard around the edges. I'm starting to wonder if I've got the flu on top of this cough, as I'm feeling stupendously listless and weak on top of having a chronic ache in the chest region. I'm seriously debating calling in tomorrow as well, which I'm twitchy about as I have a shitload of work mouldering on my desk these past few days.

brown packing paper is sooooooo much stiffer and harder to deal with than regular wrapping paper. But it makes for attractive little bundles, especially when complemented with gold ribbony goodness. I don't get to be a wrapping fag all that often, but today, as I work on a package of doooooomy goodness, I'm having fun. Not to mention indulging my need for bad VH1 and Animal Planet.

When I was a kid and I got sick someone in the family would bring home a small burger king vanilla milkshake for me. It generally was never enough to spark my usual lactose problem, but just enough to soothe the savage beast of a sore throat. Somehow all the bad TV I've been watching as I wrap up parcels reminded me of that... I don't think I want something like that now, it would probably make me sicker. But possible a fruit smoothie?

*cough* ow.