Sharing is caring, but I'm none too happy.
Namely because I seem to have come down with the something.
And whatever it is, I don't like it.
I got into megacomfy clothes and napped when I got home. I was so cold I just shivered beneath the blanket. I had vivid, bizarre rather involved dreams in which I woke up to someone in my house three times in quick succession. I think once was my Mom, once was Michele and once was Kristin. A dream within a dream within a dream. Very strange. Then the nice lawn guy woke me up. I gave him money to go away.
I'm cranky and my head hurts and I'm cold and I think I have a fever and I'm supposed to be studying lines but blahblahblahblah Idonwanna.
Would somebody bring me over some soup? Pretty please?
Harrumph. I'm going to eat the only soup (mind you, I've spelled that as "suip" three times now) in the house-- hearty black bean. I can't help but say that in a booming deep voice. Mmm. Hearty black bean
It's not my favourite soup. In fact, this can is probably as old as my cat.
My significant other, my life partner, my helpmeet, and the love of my life* just picked up a chick flick and Chinese food. Including soup. You'd think he'd stop by and share. Nurse me back to health. But noooooooo. Twelve hundred miles is tooooo faaaaaaaar. Whiner.
He even blamed the chick flick AND his late fees on me to the video store guy. Don't blame me, dude. I wanted to see Spaceballs.
Harrumph, I say again. I've lived alone long enough to have turned from a helpless whiny sick girl to a curmudgeony self-sufficient sick broad.
...at least as long as there isn't anybody else in the house who can make me soup, anyway.
*tromps off to make icky soup*
* all the same guy, in case you'd wondered... but if you have soup, and are willing to travel, I'll negotiate**
** I don't actually mean that. Unless it's really good suip.
*** I so wish he were here.