I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Not Related to You!"]

Tuesday, July 3, 2001
Takng a lay down


Rob's '80s flashback CD with "Betty Davis Eyes," "True" and so many others. Fuck, I feel old!


Sesame chicken, scallion pancakes, the aforementioned hot and sour soup.


The Stand, aganst my better judgement. I hope you can't catch pregnancy from a Stephen Kng novel.


Poopy...but gettng better.

My lucky stars for the extra day off to sleep, drnk plenty of fluids and get human agan.


Mistakes are the price of wisdom.

I am...a hypochondriac. Thus it was ill-advised to pick up The Stand by Stephen Kng on a whim over the weekend when I felt like readng a little book.

In case you haven't read it, the book's about a cataclysmic superflu that wipes out 99.4% of the U.S. population. Needless to say, I woke up with the flu quite late the evenng of the next day. I slept most of Saturday, woke up to read and have some soup and passed out readng about 3 hours later.

I slept most of Sunday before I realized I wasn't just lazy, I was sick. By the time I got some dnner and cold medicne across the street, I came back home and nearly passed out n the elevator.

James joked that there must've been some germs on the book jacket. Damn that Stephen Kng!

I felt bad enough that I called n sick to work on Monday. Some great new employee I am. I didn't want them to thnk I was tryng to take a 5-day weekend, so I went n today. I made it through most of the day just fne, but had to sit down a few times when the hot and cold flashes flared up.

I left work two hours early, thankful most of the other worker bees seemed to have either already flown the hive or were still trapped theren. The streets were surprisngly empty. I went to my big bro Rob's place for a little TLC, music, fluffy chair sittng and hot and sour soup. I feel almost human agan and might even make it back to Brooklyn without keelng over on the tran.

Time to get n one last cat nap before I head back to my side of the river.

[Next entry: "Not Clever With the Titles"]
[Index] [archives] [bio]
[Wish List]

Powered By Greymatter

All text and images 1992-2002 Erica