So I’m all set for a weekend with my cousin and 30 of his closest friends at his time share on Fire Island. Drinking, volleyball, and combinations thereof (i.e. winning team drinks) are planned, along with other entertainments, not to mention the chance of meeting some more of the lovely females he associates with. I turn down some of my friends and their offer to get together sometime this weekend and see Attack of the Clones, this time with a non-industry crowd. I expect to miss a chance to meet a distant cousin and his wife. I’m ready, I’m pumped, I’m halfway packed.
I’m sick. :mad:
Fuckity-fuck sandwich on stale English muffins. I have to miss a fun time with fun people. It’s too late to make other plans. The other cousin’s wife is newly pregnant and paranoid, so I’ll be allowed to wave to her from across the room before I have to vacate the area.
Plus, I feel absolutely horrid. My throat is scratchy and burning, my voice is weak, my body aches, and my sinuses are starting to back up already. I’m on-and-off feverish, and we’re hitting a patch of warm weather. My room is the warmest in the house, my air conditioner’s thermostat isn’t good at light-duty cooling, and a fan isn’t quite adequate.
This could suck worse, but it would take a natural disaster or a conscious effort on somebody else’s part. Sometimes I think I couldn’t catch a break if both its legs were broken.