lookingforlissa

Escape your life for a little while — come play in mine.

Why I didn’t post this morning

Posted by Lissa on July 16, 2009

As my regular readers (all four of you) may have noticed, since I bought my baby Eee I’ve been posting more in the mornings, before I go to work. I’ve mentioned before how I try to post something before I hit my fave blog spots every day; since I prefer to read rather than write, it gives me a reward for posting. That, and after reading a lot of posts by people who are more brilliant/analytical/logical/plain-up funny than me, I’m reduced to mumbling “Yeah . . . what he said . . . and she said . . . that too . . . ”

However, my nice neat little pattern was snapped this morning because I overslept. Instead of slapping the snooze button for a half hour and then (at 6:20) staggering out in search of coffee, I managed to turn off my alarm clock altogether. I have no memory of doing it; all I know is that a concerned Mike tapped on my foot at 6:40 to make sure I knew that sleeping and rolling over to sleep some more did not magically equate to getting my butt on its way to work.

Thank goodness I only took one NyQuil pill last night instead of the recommended double-dose. I’d likely still be asleep.

The sore throat has largely vanished — all hail the tea-with-honey and salt-water-gargling! (I do hate the taste of salt water. I tried to convince myself I was at the beach in Puerto Rico tasting ocean water while fighting my way through the waves. It didn’t work. Something about the wearing a suit and overhead fluorescent lights put paid to that illusion.) Sadly, at precisely 8:25 last night my sinuses took all that moisture and decided to grab it in a deathlock. I know the exact minute I became congested because that’s when I Skype’d my sister and — hey presto! — started sounding like someone shoved my head full of cottonballs. This, too, shall pass . . .

P.S. Speaking of cotton balls — along with the horse’s head we also got LilBro1 a Godfather poster. Turns out I do a not-horrible Marlon Brando impression. “Someday . . . and this day may never come . . . ”  But no, I didn’t stuff my cheeks to give me jowls. I don’t think the look would do anything for me.

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