The only thing I want to do right now involves a long sleeve extra thin cotton t-shirt from the Gap, soft sleep pants from Anthropologie, two extra cool pillows, my down comforter and my bubee's hand knit blanket, on my bed. My sick-y attire. I want to alternate between sleep, reading Kitchen Confidential, Elle Magazine and tv watching, last nights missed episode of Studio 60. I was sleeping then too. I am sick, but nothing that a good 12 hours of rest won't cure. My father believes 3 fingers of scotch and good snooze under 5 blankets will cure anything. I tend to agree, maybe less the scotch, I think I would vomit all over my white Ralph Lauren bedding. My head feels like a pressure cooker, my body feels like a school bus ran over it and the snot is never ending.
Labels: Everyday Life
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Buffy said:
Your father sounds like a wise man.
- 2:37 PM
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anne said:
That is what I always say and he seems to think. That is until I disagree with him!
- 4:10 PM
