My poor dad is utterly sick today; so much so, that he couldn't even take me to work this morning. I despise going anywhere by taxi so I called in sick, and I find it quite ironic to be coming down with something myself. I've been sleeping all day and now that I'm half-starved I'm sitting here with a juice box, vienna sausages and a slice of bread with peanut butter. I don't know how the little kids at daycare can eat such bizarre combinations of food because it's turning my own stomach. It's a nice day off though, I haven't called in sick at work until today. It's a good thing too because my limited amount of wardrobe was all dirty and I'm wearing pre-pregnancy jeans which I'm forced to leave open all day long. I've been contemplating about how my old stomach has seemed to vanish. It's happened so slowly that I didn't even get a chance to miss the flatness of it. Bah. Can you tell I'm still half-asleep?
Last night I dreamt that I had two days left to live (I have no idea why) but then fell through the ice with my cousins and drowned. All I could think after I died was how I got cheated out of my last two days and how pissed it made me, so I lingered around the living and was even so lucky (pssh) as to be able to talk to some of them still. But I maintain that I hope I never end up drowning because it's the most horrible thing EVER. Stupid dreams.
I have to drive my dad to the hospital. It has to have been years since I've actually driven (cars and roads = evil) and we'd just better not get pulled over because I haven't had a license for some three years. I don't think it would be nice to have a police officer staring down at my unzipped jeans either. My poor dad.
Baby tee, too-small flares, flower socks
I'm listening to:
Local God *Everclear*
I wish I wasn't too lazy to cook something for myself