Doctor Pinkberry Won’t Make House Calls

I’m sick in bed coughing those loud, mean kinds of coughs that are my body’s revenge for treating it so nice for two weeks — cleansing, exercising, sleeping, healthy work diet — and then doing the opposite for three days.  Granted, it was an unforgettable three days —  complete with an excellent 4am dance party, being photographed for a fashion blog (the blue sequin dress gets that kind of attention – see it and my blissful state of non-sickness below), and the best annual Girls’ Night to date.  

However, I’m tired of being sick.  At first, it was good for my writing.  I broke every social plan (even my weekly horseback riding lesson), and buckled into a sick bed infected with the writing bug (oh! good one!). But then I lost the ability to taste foods and that just pisses me off.  

Thanks to everyone who attended a conference call with me this week. I recognize that I sounded like 80-year-old frog with a love for ciggies.  I also realize that even though you pretended to ignore my ferocious cough attacks, you heard ’em.   And you were grateful you were not me.

I’ve been needing naps and Pinkberry.  The latter is merely an unfulfilled fantasy because until Pinkberry gets a delivery service, I’m uninspired to leave the house and risk accusations by strangers that I’m probably infected with Swine Flu.  I’ve gotten that enough from Facebook. 

In the meantime, I’m realizing that In Treatment might be the best show on television.  Or maybe that’s the Swine Flu talking.Before I knew what I was in store for.

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