Groggy head this morning, kids...I wish I could say that it was self-inflicted, but alas, this one just popped up out of nowhere. You know you're getting sick when the feel of air moving makes you uncomfortable. Yeah. We had a fan on last night, and I admitted to my daughter that I couldn't sit near it because the "air hurts my head".
Appropriately, she gave me "The Look That Says WTF?"...
Everybody hates being sick. Men, traditionally, use this as an excuse to take to their beds, to make a very big show of that feigned helplessness that they so subtly display in their daily lives. Women, with few exception, look upon getting sick in this way:
"I'm TOO BUSY for this!"
And we are. No question. This is why, when women get seriously ill, or have heart attacks, or whatever, they are all but dragged to the hospital while still muttering "...but I haven't finished cleaning the kitchen...and I need my black pants washed for next week..." or whatever. Our "To Do" queues are endless, and for whatever reason, we are completely unable to delegate. Or at least I am.
Luckily, it's the weekend, and, somewhere in my possession are the discs for the complete second season of Torchwood. A girl could do much worse than flop on the couch and drink in several hours of pretty people doing extraordinary things. I may be able to arrange for couch-side delivery of soup and carbonated beverages, if I'm pitiful enough. I'll work on that.