Your Host is on the Fritz

If the human body is a glorious machine, then my machine is broken. I'm currently trapped under the weight of a most un-fun sickness. One of the side-effects is that I haven't slept in 3 days. Let me tell you, that's TOTALLY not as fun as it sounds. There's very little to do in the dead of night, though I manage to keep busy with a regular routine of hour-long repetitive coughing jags and grimacing.

I'm getting really good at the grimacing part. I've managed to expand my total repertoire from the basic "You're not funny" and "this food is spoiled", and I'm currently incorporating "my god, what's that smell?", "I can't believe my car was wrecked again!", and I'm trying my best to get "you're so un-funny I may have just contracted cancer" perfected before the big meet at State. It's a hard one to pull off though.

Take comfort in the thought that I'm not thinking about any of you, as my thoughts are entirely devoted to anticipating how much the next cough will hurt my throat.

I'll write again when the environment-suited agents from E.T. leave my house.