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Wicked chrysanthemum party boat.

Apparently, last night, while falling asleep, I thought these were important words to remember. So, there they are, and... there we are.

I think you can pretty much gauge the success of a day, based on how long you manage to not change back into your pyjamas. Today, I lasted a little more than an hour, and only because there was coffee to be gotten. Coffee to get. Whatever. Grammar isn't my primary function right now. Not dying of pharyngitis, laryngitis, strep throat, or pneumonia are my top goals for the day. They'll probably be my top goals for tomorrow too. However, tomorrow, I need to go to at least two banks, and possibly get coffee again. I'm hoping for a vast improvement in the not-feeling-like-dying department.

Right, so, I lasted all of the time it took to get coffee and groceries (barely), the time it took to literally choke down breakfast (oh, solid food, when will I learn), throw breakfast back up, and brush my teeth, before I was right back in my pyjamas. Things like naps are fun. This reminds me that taking such a nap is likely in my best interests. Ow. Ow.

I pranked him. To death with a tire iron. I don't know what it is about Christopher Walken, but he's humorous in ways that shouldn't be humourous. Just the ways he puts the emphasis on his words is hilarious. Plus he dances. Who can ask for more than that?

I bring this up mainly because Ruy and I are watching SNL's Best of Christopher Walken. Okay, well, we're taking a lunch break, but I believe we'll be getting back to it after lunch. Then comes SNL's Best of Will Ferrell 1 & 2, because Will Ferrell is and always has been my first comedic love. Outside of improv, that is. Nothing quite holds a candle to Ryan Stiles and Colin Mochrie. But if I had to pick a conventional comedian, I'd pick Will Ferrell first and foremost. He's made some epically bad movies, sure, but who hasn't? *cough Teenage Space Vampires, Robin Dunne cough*

My throat still hurts, and it is absolutely painful to laugh. It might actually be painful to listen to me laugh, as I sound like a dying walrus. Again, my voice is fading out, except instead of just fading out completely, I've lost an octave. By this, I mean that my voice is an octave higher than usual, as my vocal cords are too sore to come down any lower. This is laughable, because, as anyone who knows me knows, I don't exactly have a low voice to begin with. And I would laugh. If it weren't for the pain, and the walrus dying.

So, I'm guessing that Day 3 isn't when you start to decide if you have strep throat or not, right? Or... I don't know, strep ear. I used to get ear infections all the time as a kid, and now I never seem to, which is bizarre, because my ears hurt. Whatever this is, it isn't my conventional cold, because it isn't affecting my nose at all. Except for my stupid sinuses. So, occasionally, I do wake up with my head splitting in half and wanting to scream. But as far as nasal congestion goes, there's nothing. If a rhinovirus is a conventional cold, with the stuffy nose and everything, what do you call something that's mainly in your chest? Other than chestyvirus.

Turns out we'll just call it chestyvirus. Or pharyngitis, as I'm fairly sure my throat is swollen.

Ruy and I are booking our flights around Europe, and it feels a lot like one of those Computer Science problems I had to do in university, where you find the best route, and the best price, and something about Koenigsberg and his bridges. Ruy is moderately cranky, because he's dealing with work at the same time, but I'd kind of like it if he didn't take it out on me, because all I'm doing is trying to be helpful. He has leapt down my throat no less than fourteen times in the last 2 hours.

Mariana is watching the movie channel with descriptive video, which is great, because I don't even have to look at the television. However, she also thinks that turning the heat up to 25 is reasonable, and even I, who gets cold easily, think this is completely ridiculous.

I cannot begin to fathom what she might be watching, however. Tap dances with a skipping rope? What does that even mean? I'd maybe marry the descriptive video reader, though. So bland and monotonous...

Word Count: 775
Word Count to Date: 30437

February 2012

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