1. Watched one million movies. These include: Sylvia- about the rocky marriage of poets Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes ( this led to my rereading in one evening both The Colossus and The Birthday Letters); Scent of a Woman ( which led me to a nyquil induced crying jag); Mr. Holland's Opus (which I scoffed at and realized that if I really wanted that much cheese I'd raise goats, thank you); and eighteen back episodes of The Daily Show.
2. Slept. This included a dream in which I coughed up a tonsil and wrapped it in toilet tissue in the event that a doctor could put it back in it's proper place. That was a pleasant dream.
3. Got really bent out of shape at the fact that no-one will ever care as much about your illness as your mother did when you were five. I did entertain daydreams that someone would show up to cuddle, chicken soup in hand- but let's give credit where it is due; the cats did a lovely job keeping my lap warm.
4. Complained out loud to myself. Not a lot of elaboration needed here.
5. Downloaded music. What else is new? I got David Bowie's entire discography, A King Crimson album, and a Grandaddy ep I didn't even know existed.
6. Made my own homemade chicken soup, and if you listen closesly you can hear the soft sound of me patting myself on the back. It came out really well. I'll save you the tirade on processed, canned soups for today.
Well, that about sums it up. Off to finish Baltasar and Blimunda. Back to work tomorrow.