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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Death on a Cracker

That's what 'Smilton used to say he felt like when he was sick, and I'm sick. I didn't even realize it. But that's why I'm throwing up, coughing, sneezing, sweating and freezing. And paining. Everywhere. I was chalking it up to almost any other reason; plain old fluish stuff wasn't on the radar. Funny how you don't recognize things, how you carry on til you can't. Maybe that's why single people don't live as long as partnered peep. There's nobody to say, "You look like shit, what's wrong with you? You oughta go to bed." Nope, when you're alone you don't have an outside observer. So you chalk things up to whatever (must be allergies, must be PMS, must be something I ate...) and instead of catching it early and heading it off, you end up full-blown sick.

Well, I'm not caring much about anything except going back to bed. So I think I will. Later.

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