I came back from California with the nastiest cold. I decided I should still go to work because I have only been there for a month, and I already took a couple of days of when lil’ guy was sick. I walked around Boston hacking like the female protagonist in a 19th century opera, except without the singing. People moved away from me on the train. It’s that bad.
When the weekend finally came, I got into my pajamas and laid down on the couch. I was all prepared to watch my Netflix movie, The Day I Became a Woman, which is an Iranian film about a 9 year old Muslim girl’s last day without a burka. But instead, I ran across this, The Flavor of Love Marathon, which is perfect for the Easter weekend. I watched an entire season in one sitting. When I woke up this morning, I really hated myself for it. (I am really glad New York didn’t win).
BTW – I asked Jen if she thought I could have TB. She said no, she thought I had whooping cough. That is what she has seen at the hospital. Maybe I should go to the doctor.