Feel. Like. Shit.
My head is in a fog. My throat is sore and I have this annoying, intermittent cough. OD’ing in Vitamin C is apparently not enough to stave off illness, just so you know.
I woke up this morning wishing I could stay in bed for at least a year. Instead, I popped a couple of Tylenol and proceeded to kick my own ass out the door. Oh, the suckage. If I thought I could get away with it, I’d crawl under my desk and take a nice, long nap.
The Chain, by Ingrid Michaelson has been playing in my head the past few days. Partly because it’s breathtakingly beautiful and partly because it just fits. Since my brain is like a big, nasty bowl of oatmeal and I have nothing even remotely interesting to write about, I’ll share it with you.
So glide away on soapy heels
And promise not to promise anymore
And if you come around again
Then I will take, then I will take the chain from off the door
I hope you’re feeling better by now. Glad you’re blogging again.