Gonna watch TV and pray for decent re-runs.

In the seven years that I've been pierced I've been very lucky (and very careful) to hardly ever snag a piercing. Never experienced the dreaded piercing skin tear. But now, after Monday night, I know just how lucky I was because, SOB, does that ever hurt.

Once again, I'm a sick little bee. Maria believes it to be allergies. I think it's stress. I dislike my job JUST THAT MUCH that my body will get sick to prevent me from going to it.

I slept til 1:30 on my sick day yesterday, which actually made me a little mad. I missed out on hours of pointless daytime television, which is by far, the best part of a sick day. Watching paternity test results in the middle of phlegm-brain/pseudoephedrine stupor is just the oddest sensation in the world.

But, kudos to me for even being able to sleep yesterday morning after 4 Tylenol Severe Cold Daytimes. Ever since I spent that month off caffeine, my body's been super sensitive to it. Like, no Dr. Pepper after 7:00 kind of sensitive (ohai, imma toddler). Normally cold medicine wires me like non-other, but ever since the Great American Caffeine Swear-Off, Dayquil's made me downright loopy. But, nope, not yesterday. ZZZZ.

Today I ended up rocking an entire day at work, even though I only planned on a half. Actually, "rocking" is the complete opposite adjective from what I did at work today. But, tomorrow, oh, tomorrow is going to be downright brutal. Like, I may end up in fetal position underneath desk kind-of-brutal. Like, pretty lucky the windows on our 7th floor office don't open kind-of-brutal. Like, no, really, brutal. If you're oh so privledged to know where this mysterious job of wonder THAT I DON'T BLOG ABOUT is, then you might have a good idea as to why tomorrow is teh brutal. So, please, let the waves of good karma and nice thoughts wash over me. I'll need it. Freaking brutal.

By the way, P-Run, I totally saw that coming.