Grrrr

I hate being sick. I particularly hate being sick at Christmas time. The world around me is full of happy jolly people who are happy and jolly around me. And I feel like shite. My throat's as raw as ground hamburger that, well, hasn't been cooked yet. My nose is stuffy. My head hurts. I don't feel happy and jolly. I wanna cry. I wanna go home and take some nasty disgusting Nyquil and pull the covers over my head and cry myself to sleep.

How petty of me.

Today we're having our potluck and Secret Santa gift exchange. The very manly manager whose name I drew didn't have his wishlist up for several days. Finally, in exasperation, I went to my boss (a senior manager) and asked her to tell him that if he didn't get his list up soon, he was going to receive Hello Kitty stuff for Christmas. She laughed, and made the threat. He believed her, and got his list up a day or two later. Shucks! So I got him a very manly Dallas Cowboys shirt. But I wrapped it in Hello Kitty giftwrap. Because I'm just a nasty bitcah.

My calendar picture this month is the Lady of Shalott. I am enjoying looking at it. In my poverty-stricken college student days at the University of Utah, I had a huge print of this hanging in my basement apartment. I loved this picture. Still do, although I don't think I want a huge print of it hanging in my living room. I need to hit the calendar store right after Christmas when the calendars go on sale for half-price but before they're all gone. I don't think I want another PreRaphaelite calendar. I've enjoyed it this year, but its lush gorgeousness has been a little too much. I'm ready for something a little more austere.

I'm sucking another sugar-free Halls lozenge. This is my second of the morning, and it's only 8:45. I can always tell that I'm really sick when I manage to keep one in my mouth long enough for it to dissolve completely. The things are so utterly disgusting, but so satisfying when I'm sick enough to really need them.

Whimper whine complain gripe. Why don't y'all tell me to just shut up?