it is so cold, and the heat isnt on yet. im leaving my window just the smallest half-crack open because i cant even fathom how germ-encrusted everything would be if i didnt let at least a little air move. sniffle, snivel, i should go buy some real tissues, but again, it is so cold. its too bad i wont let myself waddle across the street in blanket-wrap, because it really is cozy and nice; its also nice to think that if anyone gets sassy i have my sexy, infectious cough to fend them off with.

maine was very, very nice, but there was just too much going on; too many fireworks, not enough stars.

ok, clearly "sick and functional" is a big lie; back to bed for some more "sick and od'ing on dayquil, which, oddly enough, still makes me as drowsy as nyquil does." im frustrated because its too hard to read, movies are too stupid, and everything else takes energy. also, its nice that the one thing in the history of man my roommates choose to throw out, ever, voluntarily, is the pleastic bottle i keep to make my orange juice in. i cleaned it and left it on the counter to dry, and lo, i get back and its the one damn thing on the counter thats been moved - not the tv remote, not the sinkful of dishes, not the other plastic container (bent in odd, unacceptable ways) sitting on the counter. whiz kids, these.

i go forage for warmth.