SIIIIIIICK

Dude.

I hate being sick.

I know that no one likes being sick, but being an inside my brain head kid, I have a real hard time not dwelling when laid out on the couch, or stuck in bed, or in those hours where you realize you can't do anything but stare at the wall at the same few pictures, paintings, dresser and on and on. Good lord, the mountain of tissues, the things you think will make you better and then you have ice cream and mess up that whole no dairy thing, sleeping with three pillows propped up and not on the side, trying to do work but the nose making you sound like an asshole, yes. This is Angela Sbeaking.

And then again I dwell, plus I hate being sick, and I think that's dwelling again.

But. It isn't bad for perspective.

A cold, hopefully something that is only a cold gets better in a few days. There's a world out there beyond the couch, and a world that will be there when you get better. It's usually a movie that does it for me - something that shows something way beyond where I'm sitting right now and somewhere I can go. When I'm not sick.

I'm taking a step back to say that I am also pretty superstitious and know them things about hubris when characters in the storybooks make declarative statements like "I will be well again," and then they wind up with cancer of the braincells and it was just a cold turns to ye olde watch what you say tales. But that's because I read too many books and saw too many movies with too many twists. Apologies, as it is digressions like these that take away from good ideas or at least structure in writing.

So the perspective. Couch, blankets, there's an underneath to my face that is pressing up against my face, and should I take Sudafed or just fight through because what's better for. You know.

And I know it was spring today, and it will be spring when I get better. I know there is a lot of out there, out there. If you have the opportunity to have out there available, then you're doing all right. I think.