What started out as a sore throat twinge a couple weeks ago has become a full on biological war. My head is determined to fall off of my neck, the right side of my nose is determined to snork for the rest of eternity, my throat has decided that its existence is arbitrary, my chest cavity took a break, and I've never been so aware of my ears in these long years. Not that there have been many.
In any case, I'm utterly convinced that fluid manufactured within my nasal passage has turned downright acidic like nuclear waste and I'm quite certain I might end up with super powers ala Daredevil, except just really really good olfactory sense. That would be a terrible superpower. They would call me the Schnoz.
At least the left side of my nose knows to remain open so that I can get that altogether uplifting source of oxygen necessary for survival. Spent my morning eating Valentine chocolates, snorking, watching Downton Abbey, and then finally settled down to work more on one of my paintings. Best decision I made this morning. Especially because I've got Bon Iver's album "For Emma, Forever Ago" running cyclical in the background.
Nothing like an overcast day accompanied by no one except for yourself, paint, and heart burning melodies.
Sometimes being ill is exactly what it's cracked up to be.
Luxuriating in sickness,
M
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