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mrmble. *wheeze*

I went to a wedding and I came home with a cold.

I don't know why or how -- it might have had something to do with the quickly-growing-cold weather, it might have had something to do with the fact that we had the heater on all night, it might have had something to do with the one and a half cigarettes I had.

But I feel like I'm the living dead. All stuffed up and hacking and just wishing I was in another world where my head didn't feel like it was being held in a vise.



But the wedding was fabulous. It was the husband's boss and his long-time girlfriend (they've known each other for eleven years! They have two children! And they're getting married now!), and they got married in a fabulous place, everything looking fabulous, and everything just...fabulous.

They had a dixieland jazz band playing. Now that kicked ass. They were so utterly good and kickass and, yeah, I was wishin' I had gumbo and cornbread and a weddin' cake made out of king cake, but I was especially happy with the nice ham, the vegetarian spring rolls, and the massively chocolate cake.

It was all so wonderful. And they were utterly fabulous the entire time.


But, yeah, I get home, and I feel a little rough. Not drunk, just cold and tired. I go to bed, I wake up early because I feel even worse, and then -- bam -- I'm falling to pieces.

Hey, look, there goes my ear! And my spleen! And a chunk of lung!


I think I need to go lie down a lot. Curl up on the bed, space out on the tv (especially The Shield right now), and just generally will my immune system to beat this wacky cold.

Beat! Beat! Beat!

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