So a bunch of organs walk into my body and sit down at the bar.
They talk amongst themselves about who is the most worthless and which one I could do without. Colon gets pissed off because its decided that hes the one thats got to go. So right before he leaves…he gets all belligerent and wreaks havoc on my bar.
Ok that was horrible. What I’m trying to say here is that though the finish line is wicked close…I feel worse than ever. I can’t decide if I’m legitimately feeling awful or its just a mental battle knowing its only 24 days away. The last few weeks have been miserable. Mega miserable. In fact miserable deserves a capital “M”. I’m nauseous all the time, today I’m dry heaving stomach acid. Over the weekend I had fevers again. I’m just tired of it all. So tired of being sick, and complaining about being sick.
I’ve also begun mourning my future losses.
Nope, not the loss of a major organ, but the loss of popcorn.
I adore popcorn, and it seems as though my love for its buttery popped goodness will have to be a thing of the past. How depressing.