My sickitude is reaching new heights! I'm full on coughy phlegmy sneezy nose-blowy gross to be around.
But I've decided I've got to stop complaining about my throat infection and school. Well school, really--I hate it more than the throat infection.
Earlier this week I saw Bill Cosby talking about how hard Af-Americans fought for good education in the civil rights movement, and I tried to use that to make me stop complaining about school. But it didn't work.
However, I've had a new kick in the ass. Gilby and his wife have a "couple friend," and last night the wife died. She's my age, and from what they know it was totally sudden. One day she's updating facebook, the next day she's gone. She and her husband had just bought a home, adopted a baby, and were making plans with Gilby and L. to go on vacation together. She had a degenerative disease, but obviously wasn't ill enough that anyone thought she'd pass away.
That's crazy. So my new standard for A Good Day is gonna have to be: My husband didn't die in his sleep last night. I can't begin to imagine how devastated this poor guy is, and is going to be.