Hey, Boss -- I Lied. I'll Be Back in February. Maybe. [Where the Hell Was I?]

« Let's Just Say She Didn't 'Hang It By My Chimney With Care', All Right? | Main | You're Not Fooling Anyone, You Know »

December 28, 2003

Hey, Boss -- I Lied. I'll Be Back in February. Maybe.

Well, this blows.

I hurt. All over. The aches from my illness are bleeding over into the creaky back from the soft mattresses we're sleeping on over Christmas break, and I'm feeling the pinch.

(And if you think there's just a smidgen of hopeful optimism left in me, know that I just included 'bleeding' and 'pinch' in a sentence about how I feel, when I really didn't have to.

The glass is not 'half full'. It's all empty, broken on the floor, and shards of it are poking into my delicate between-toe meat. That is how I feel right now.)

I don't know what this is -- I don't think it's the flu, or anything dramatic like that... but I'm not ruling it out, either. I'm coughing, stuffy, achy, and feverish. It's like the after-effects of a weekend at Denis Leary's, or a bong party at the Barbi Twins' place.

Okay, that doesn't make any damned sense, does it? Well, tough. Just the fact that I can get fingers to keyboard right now is amazing enough to me, and at the same time, it's wearing me the hell out. I'll be back in some form -- liquid, given how it feels right now -- tomorrow, and back to my old self as soon as I can shake this wretched beast. Oh, and I'll be home tomorrow -- sweet, sweet home -- so I should be in better spirits. And quite possibly pickled in spirits, which always makes for some interesting reading, no?

Anyway, take care of yourselves, and I'll see you again when I get back home. Right now, it's 10pm, and I'm going to bed. Wish me ten hours of sleep and a miracle cure for the trip back tomorrow, okay? That'd be the best Christmas gift I got all year. Toodles!

Categories: Just Life

Technorati Tags:

Posted by Charlie on December 28, 2003 | Bookmark This | Email Me

Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://new.wherethehellwasi.com/cgi-bin/mt/mt-tb.cgi/254

Comments

Sorry you feel like poo, hopefully you will recover faster than I am. I got sick 2 weeks ago and some of it is still hanging on!

Posted by: Jeff A | December 28, 2003 11:23 PM

Hey Charlie! Feel better dude! I caught the crud just as I was leaving to drive from Arizona to Tennessee and Im STILL (a full week later) feeling like crap! Whatever it is it SUCKS! Anyhow, now that I'm STARTING to feel human again, when Dad asked if we all were interested in eating Brats for dinner one night, I suggested making your Brats recipe. I'll do my best to make them right...and I'll let you know after Wednesday's dinner how they turned out!

Posted by: Lara | December 28, 2003 11:30 PM

Don't forget to sterilize your keyboard after you type so that when you're feeling better the germies aren't lying in wait.

Posted by: chasmyn | December 29, 2003 12:56 AM

Here's to hoping you feel better and manage to get pickled, inebriated, looped, boozed, swacked, blotto, oiled, tanked, fried, crocked, slewed, zonked, lushed, lit, loaded, canned, gassed and generally $#!T-faced before your next bloggin effort. Even if you aren't feeling better you won't care

-nef

Posted by: nefarious | December 29, 2003 01:05 AM

feel better...

Posted by: Sabrina | December 29, 2003 08:28 AM

*puts on hazmat suit*

don't get anything on me! you're oozing...

Posted by: tj | December 29, 2003 09:40 AM

Try to avoid dying. I'm fighting a minor illness myself, but I think I might live.

Posted by: The Hearn | December 29, 2003 12:06 PM

i dont know why, but sometimes I enjoy being sick and having the luxury of blaming my bitching,sleeping, lack of movement, to said illness.

Sometimes - it is something that can be good.

Posted by: Miss Lyndsay | December 29, 2003 03:52 PM

Get better soon man...and if you didn't get a chance, go check out Dave Barry's chat on washingtonpost.com.

Maybe you can laugh your way back to health!

Posted by: Joe | December 29, 2003 05:23 PM