Dear Body;

You are on notice.  I know you have enjoyed being sick the past few days, but no more!  Actually, I kind of doubt you’ve enjoyed the fever and constant runny nose, but perhaps you are a masochist.  Perhaps feeling like crap is exactly what floats your boat.  I have always pegged you for the more twisted sort.

At any rate, you are hereby and forthwith banned from getting sick again until at least November.  I want to enjoy my week in Italy and I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of a church-full of people by sneezing and sniffling as I wobble in fevered delirium down the aisle.  ["I, Teri, take thee ACHOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"]

I’ve got my eye on you, damnit.  You get sick again, and I will be forced to punish you in a form which will be decided upon once I have ascertained whether you are or are not a masochist.  Because YOU WILL NOT LIKE IT!  No, ma’am!

Threateningly,
Me

Never before have I really had to share my things.  Not that I’m bad at sharing [at least, I don't think I am] it’s just that it’s not my default mindset.  Mr. W is always reminding me that it’s not “mine” and “his” anymore, but “ours”.  Especially in regards to money.  It’s going to take some getting used to.

Him: Let’s order something for dinner tonight.
Me: Sure.  I have some money.  Want me to pay?
Him: How about *we* pay with the joint account?
Me: Oh yeah!

So yeah, definitely a change.

I’ve been in the new apartment for a week now and it’s great.  I don’t think there is a straight line in the place, but it feels like home.  I also need to get used to being able to put my things wherever I want.  I keep getting frustrated because there’s no place for something in the bedroom before realizing that I have an entire apartment to find a place for it.  Now I just need to stop getting sick long enough to finish getting all my stuff in there and unpacked.

Speaking of sick–I had food poisoning yesterday.  Mr. W and I wracked our brains trying to figure out where I could have gotten it [especially since we ate all of the same things over the weekend and he was fine], but couldn’t come up with anything.  Mom says that’s how it goes sometimes with her and my dad as well.  Perhaps I just have a weaker stomach / digestive whatsit than Mr. W?  Feeling better today, albeit a little weak.  And hey, I lost five pounds!

Me: Think how much weight I would lose between now and the wedding if I just got food poisoning once a week!
Paige: Yeah, but that would suck.  Go with bulimia.  You won’t have to miss work and will only have to throw up three times a day.
Me: That sounds much better than food poisoning!
Paige: Usually bulimia is never the answer, but it is clearly the better choice here.

Me: [cough hack sneeze]
Coworker: “So when are you going to the doctor, Teri?”
Me: “I don’t know.  It’s just a cold.” [Hack]
Coworker: “Might be a sinus infection.”
Me: “Okay, fine.”

Tomorrow’s the Big Day.  What are you doing?  I’m going to the doctor’s office!  Yay!  But hey, at this point being able to breathe clearly does sound pretty damn romantic.

And in sad news, the “Looking Good For Jesus” cosmetic line is no longer available.  Sorry girls!  You’ll have to go back to being plain-looking for our Lord.  Or ugly.  Probably ugly.

So I know you’re not *supposed* to starve a fever, but I sure as hell didn’t feel like eating.  Thursday evening I got home with a pretty bad fever.  It was still around on Friday, but finally broke Saturday.  Thank you Extra Strength Tylenol!  And now I’m in this gross, “hack up half a lung” thing.  I missed work on Friday and today.  I will go in tomorrow, damnit.  I will.

Oh, and slightly before and/or overlapping the sick-getting on Thursday I bought Rock Band with part of my tax refund.  So yay.  I’ve beaten it with the drums on medium, so now it’s time to step it up a notch.

That’s really about it for me.  I spent the weekend avoiding the cold and playing games or watching movies.  Sleeping a lot.  Taking medicine.  Marty called a couple times to check on me–that was nice.

And end to the WGA Strike?  Hurrah!  Gimme The Office.