Just shoot me
I am now officially unwell.
With the stress and coffee high of my research trip behind me, my body is free to collapse. I arrived at the Orlando airport and repacked my suitcase (a combination of clothing/copper wire and electrodes). Both the handles have ripped off my cheapo suitcase, so I had to sign a voluntary seperation form from my luggage.
When I got on the (delayed) plane back to Boston, I started to cough. I only coughed a few times, but I was trying so hard to not cough (and make gagging/choking sounds) that I nearly suffocated. I started to cry, so I hauled up the top of my hoodie, faced the window and sorta wheezed and wept and shuddered my way to normalcy trying very hard to not disturb anyone.
I really love that sweatshirt, BTW.
I got into Boston and decided that I was still on business, I had a 48 pound bag with broken handles, plus 3 other bag type things and I would take a taxi home, instead of the T.
I got home, Mr Bob failed to connect as he called me. Stupid phone/phone card. I haven't spoken to Mr Bob in nearly a week, which sucks.
I wanted to have a glass of wine and go to bed. One of my roomates was there and offered me a glass of wine. We finished off the bottle as we told each other about our work. (He taught computers to make music for his PhD). Then I went to sleep.
Then my alarm went off at 4:30 am. This means my alarm has been going off all week. Note to roomates:I'm sorry.
So this weekend, I have party tonight (I just plan to go to the pre-party from 7:30-9:30) and furniture shopping tommorrow, plus I'm inviting people over for dinner on Sunday.
I also need to edit a couple thesis chapters, redit a paper (accepted with revisions-yeah!) and write a report for NASA.
I think I wil curl up and die for a little while right now.
posted by Aislinn Sirk @ 11:03 AM
9 Comments:
Aww, sounds crappy Bob.
{{hugs}}
Sorry you're feeling so bad, Bob.
{{{hugs}}}
Dear Bob's Employer,
Please excuse Bob from work on Monday. She has worked too hard lately and is not feeling well as a result.
Dear Bob's Science Experiments,
Please don't do anything noteworthy on Monday, as Bob is sick and won't be in the office to record your activity. Also, please don't die or outgrow your Petri dishes.
Dear Mr. Bob,
Get a better phone, borrow a phone, or call collect. Your wife misses you.
Feeling a bit more human this morning. The party was nice (the getting lost and needing three cabs to get there (first one got lost and I got out without paying, second didn't know the street-last cab was 4 dollars and I tipped him 4 as well) not so nice.
I sat on porch outside and talked to some neat people and drank a few beer and left at 11:00 when the party moved on to a second party.
I was just so happy to find a place to sit at one of these parties.
*gives Bob a gentle hug*
Feel better Bob!
This is not Bob. Bob doesn't cry.
(Hi, Bob!)
hghgfddsaqw
Conner says hello.
He appears to be smitten with Miss M&M up there.
I wasn't crying from misery, just to be clear. I was crying from trying not to cough.
Though I felt pretty miserable too.
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