October 19, 2004

fire in my belly and snot in my hankey

i woke up this morning half asleep and unhappy. by my third alarm, i managed to pry myself out of my warm, sunken bed, only to discover that i felt like shit warmed over. i showered, which consisted of me leaning heavily against the wall while scalding water pounded the half of my body turned towards the faucet. my other hand waved lazily in the stream and absentmindedly rubbed my belly. i finally roused enough energy to actually bathe, and by the time i got out, i was going to be 10 min late for class. so i simply decided to dry off and go back to bed. i lay on top of my covers, steam rising from me, i'm sure, feeling completely drained of all life. it was as much as i could manage to crawl back into my bed, like a caterpillar climbing into its cocoon. i'm sure that there was even some of the same undululating creepy motion involved. i set another alarm and passed out. i was woken up some time after my new alarm went off by cynthia, the absentee roommate, coming in to use the bathroom ("oof it's hot in here"). and it was time for me to get up. properly, this time. so i dressed and went out, unnerved cynthia when she learned i had been sleeping in the buff when she came in ("maybe i should knock next time, heh") but i didn't really care. i made myself a salad for breakfast and sat down to eat in front of law and order. i haven't had any veggies for the past two days, so i thought that would be the best way to go. my eating in general has been apalling, first i gorge myself on pasta, no veggies, then i break fast with a poptart, lunch on a sandwich (not bad), dine on tiny pita thingie and mound of cookies. no wonder my tummy burns as if i have drunk several shots of vodka on an empty stomach. my throat is also scratchy and my head is light. as far as symptoms go, they're pretty mild and uninspired, but i still feel as if my time would be better served if i were to pass out on the floor. whoo. pity i have a lab report to write for tomorrow. i need some cocoa.

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