Snorfle, Hack, Blargh: The Euphonic Sounds of Ailing

I feel like I have the plague, the pox, the black lung and consumption all in one. See these zits? Clearly pustules. This hacking cough? Blood will follow soon. And then I'll waste attractively away as I cough delicately into an embroidered handkerchief. Seriously, though I'm not feeling so hot. My immune system sent up the flag of surrender after my last paper was shoddily titled. I thought it was just a mild bug that would go away after a course of Neo-Citran, but it seems to have only gotten worse in the past few days. Not that I'm helping matters by going out, baking pudding, and playing Laser Quest. Which- it was fun. I want to have another go when I don't have a pounding headache, so that I'm not stumbling around like a zombie, all "Kill me. Please kill me. Oh good, you shot me, little girl. No, please don't stand around and continue to shoot at me so that you can kill me as soon as I regenerate. Where are you parents? Blerrrrghhhhh." Not that I would do any better once I was healthy. I have lousy aim and my competitive streak dies as soon as someone hands me a gun. But it's nice to dream that I'm intergalactic smuggler Mac Johnson, with dead aim and a heart of stone.

Now I'm pounding back the cherry Dimetapp and chain chewing the Halls, leaving me a complete vegetable incapable of nothing more than watching Christmas specials on the telly. I tried knitting a row involving some diabolical nupps and had to stop, but my head between my knees, and breath. What sort of sadistic madness is the purl 5 together? I can do three, four if I try hard, but the last stubborn loop refuses to place itself on my needle. So, I'm cheating and using my nails to pick up the damn stitch. Whatever. Don't make me slap you with a Kleenex box.

Also, I'm trying to come up with some sort of studying program. Unlike last year, there isn't a whole lot of formulas and definitions to remember. I think I'll just re-read through some of the more difficult readings in the course packs, drink some beer, and pass out on my bed. Success will be mine.