So I woke up this morning feeling like I'd swallowed glass (like that husband in "I Know This Much is True!"). I had the same stupid 24-hour, curl-in-a-ball-and-moan flu that my dad, Marianne and Heather have all had. I haven't had a stomachache like that since I was a kid, and reacted in kind. I actually moaned and groaned and curled into the fetal position and cried. Poor me.
I'm feeling better now, but have limited my intake to only comforting, starchy foods. Mr. Zigkvetch offered leftover beef, grilled hamburgers and buffalo chicken tenders he was making for the game tonight. Sweet. Totally misguided, but sweet. I'm on the all-noodle diet for the time being: chicken noodle soup, ramen, and soon, mac & cheese.
For my head, I followed the prescription of trashy magazines, and playing around on the Internet when I felt up to it. I am truly obsessed with MySpace now. I've found Paul to my delighted surprise, especially because we haven't talked in forever. I've found a friend from high school, a friend from undergrad, and a friend from grad school who was also one of my bridesmaids! I'd love to find more people, but alas, I'm definitely on the older side of this trend, and I'm afraid many of my old friends are just not as hip as I am. As a former student who is now a college junior put it, "you're the hippest old fogie around!" Brat.