I still have a cold.
Oh my GOD, I feel miserable. I'm all cloudy and achy, and I absolutely have to go to work today; there's a big meeting with big bigwigs from bigwig-ness at work, of which I am the subject. Well, not me. But my newsletter. I'm sure you know I am the editor of my company newsletter, not that I like to brag. Anyway, it's going digital and today is the day the development team shows it off. And since it's MY newsletter, I can hardly not show.
But, oh, how I wish to be shivering in bed all day. But you know how stoic I am. I'll muddle through. I'll carry on. And no one sitting around me will be privy to my suffering at all.
In the meantime, I've showered nonce and have Halle-Barry-at-the-Oscars hair.
WHAT WAS WITH THE HAIR? It was like it was Sunday afternoon and she was watching HGTV in her pajamas and said, "Oh, HELL, I have the Oscars. I clean forgot." Then pulled on a dress and forgot her hair.
Other than that, Halle Barry is doing a good job of still looking good, which is more than I can say for myself right now.
Oh! Also, 348 of you took my Survey Monkey thing, and it turns out when you opt for the free version of Survey Monkey, those motherfuckers only show you the first 100 responses.
As you can sort of see (does it look blurry to you or is that my fever talking?), most of you selected "home improvement" for what I should do with my big $524. I have texted Alf, my handyman, and I am not kidding, his name is Alf. When he's done eating cats he said he'd give me an estimate.
I really wish I could see all 348 responses, because I'd love to justify blowing it on cosmetics. Since Kayeeee laid down the law, I have finished not one but TWO things of foundation in my drawer, used up god knows how many tubes of mascara that'd been lingering in there, and my lipstick choices are abominable at the moment. Let's review...
This is a color called Cafe Au Lait, and I don't mind the color, but it's coffee-flavored, and who wants to taste like coffee?
This is Azalea. I look insane when I have it on. Seriously. One swipe and I'm certifiable. I blend it with other, less awful, colors.
Apparently, "Dusty Rose" is a euphemism for "burnt orange that makes you look like 1979 grandma."
That's it! Those are the dregs. In my purse I have a tinted Burt's Bees I wear constantly and a brown, yes, brown, I had no business buying that was applied once and I still have PTSD over it.
Anyway. I can't wait to plow through those so I can get more, along with foundation, and also all my eye shadow is sad.
Dang. That's a lot of eye shadow. I'm never gonna qualify for new stuff.
But back to my illness. Because I'd hate for you to forget. Is there ever NOT something hanging on the dining room chair? Anyway. Steely Dickus took full advantage of having a feverish lap to lounge on. He was there all day; at one point, Lily was on me, and he just sat on her face, like she wasn't even existing. He doesn't care. And she LET him! Lily was all, "Well. Guess Lilee live in fur wurld now."
Also, Edsel tolerated a tail flapping on his head. Why does everyone here let this interloper order them around? I guess they needed a new leader since Tallulah. Yesterday was the 9th anniversary of the day I found Tallulah. That was a good time to think about.
I'd better cloudily get in the shower and foggily get dressed so I can be chipper at that important meeting today. I'll bear it silently for the rest of the day, as I do. No one will be the wiser. I hate to burden others with my illness.
...I just tried to find a still image of Scarlet O'Hara in bed after her miscarriage, looking dramatic, but I couldn't find one. What I DID find was this, and now I'm irritated.
That pasty, namby-pamby...
You know what she'd do? She'd bear her cold silently, work hard at her desk, till she fell over from it. "I'm all right," she'd whisper, as the color drained from her...oh. Right. Well, still. She's say she was all right. You'd never be able to tell. Say, Melanie looks alabaster and lifeless. Wonder what's for lunch?
Here I am, off to work. Don't worry about me.