Tuesday, January 18, 2011

down with the sickness

Right now, in my fridge, I have a Vosges candy bar with only one square taken from it, and it's been there for almost a week.

How, you ask, could such a thing be? How could a candy bar last more than an hour in my apartment, much less a week? It must be terrible!

No.

No, it is far from terrible. It's butter toffee, walnuts, and pecans enrobed in rich milk chocolate. When you bite into it, the saltiness sets off the sweetness and it's a symphony of happiness playing across your tastebuds.

The fact of the matter is that I'm fucking sick, and not even chocolate tastes good to me right now.

I started feeling crappy on Thursday morning. I woke up with a sore throat and it got progressively worse as the day went on. By the time I got home from work, I was hacking and couldn't get warm for anything. At one point, I was wearing pajamas, a hoodie, and socks while curled up under a blanket and I was shivering so hard my teeth were clacking together. I went to bed at 10 and spent a restless night tossing and turning.

Needless to say, I didn't go to work on Friday. I only left my apartment once, to hit up CVS for soup, Gatorade, and meds and Jamba Juice for an Orange Dream Machine with an immunity boost. (A $5 cup of snake oil, you say? Probably, but that snake oil tasted so GOOD.) Then I came home, crawled under my blanket, and watched Wildboyz, which set off another massive hacking fit because I couldn't stop laughing at Steve-O and the assorted animals he was letting bite him on the ass. By the time he lowered his buttocks onto a porcupine, I could barely breathe, so I turned it off and sank into a fitful sleep.

I shouldn't even have come in yesterday, but I knew nobody would have worked my stuff when I was out on Friday, and surprise! They didn't! Now everybody else is out with the same shit and I'm sitting here hopped up on Dayquil, feeling like somebody stuffed my head full of dirty cotton, a taste in my mouth like I rinsed it with a NYC hot dog vendor's dirty water, and oh so very tired.

Oh Vosges chocolate bar, when will you be mine?