Sometimes, it pays to feel like you're about to shuffle off this mortal coil, poppets. Sometimes, it pays to feel like the absolute bottom of the poo barrel, because then you get to stay home and recuperate and be surrounded by gay men. Sort of.
From the beginning, shall we?
So, you remember that on Friday, it was nothing but a day of phlegm and sniffling and blocked sinuses and such, right? And there was sneezing and whinging and general malaise, yes? And that, regardless of all that, I still managed to look fairly decent in my denim skirt and my black turtleneck and my boots, so that I looked stylish and collegiate? Oh, I didn't mention that? Why, how very modest of me. Really, I'm improving in such matters, aren't I? See? I don't always have to look for validation, do I?
Anyway, home I got, and into my pajamas, where I managed to do a modicum of work for English Company Canada, and then crashed out for a few hours of fitful sleep. Oh, the pain! The pressure! The sinuses that had become solid canals of unbreathable cement! But enough of that. Let's fast forward, shall we?
I would have stayed under the covers all day Saturday if I could have, but there was no choice. I had an appointment to fit, program, and take home the new accessories, and it wasn't something I was keen to cancel. You only get so many opportunities to drop that amount of money all at once, you know. Why would I pass up on something like that?
Lord! You people live in a damn noisy world! I don't need to hear the stuff I'm hearing now, my beauties! No wonder there's so many unhappy people in this world! There's too much noise pollution! I swear, you take a little hearing away from everyone on the planet, and BAM! World peace! Right there! No foolin'!
Like, right now. Do I really need to hear the clicking of the keyboard with Every. Single. Letter. That I type? And the refrigerator! Did you know that thing hums all day long? All day! Oh, and it seems that overnight, there are some parts of the wood floor in my house that needs a little touch-up, because, oh, the creaks! It's like all of a sudden, with the swingy, slammy doors, and the creaking floors, and oh! The wind! The wind, she howls! I did not know that, people! I did not know that our Canadian wind was so ticked off! Anyway, it's like the house is haunted! I swear, Stephen King would have a field day describing my house on a windy day!
So, you understand of course, that I was in no mood to be sociable and happy yesterday. It was under the covers again - only this time, with even more Kleenex, a humidifier, and better hearing.
But then... oh, but then... the telly... yes, she has her uses, that lovely box. Because you know who finally came to town? Oh, it was just a rumour before, and I was only enjoying them vicariously through my butler's boyfriend and a Diarylandrockstar but now? Now they're here, on Canadian Bravo, at 11:45 on Saturdays and again! AGAIN! On Sundays at eight, and I watched the same episode twice because that's how much I love them!
Oh, my Fab 5! It was only a suspicion before, but Queer Eye for the Straight Guy is now Officially Mare's Favorite Show. "1-800-Alarm Me!" said Carson! And, Kyan... mmmLordy Kyan. Hello hormones!
And then... and then... three out of the four movies I saw this weekend made me insanely happy. I finally saw Bring It On and I finally saw The Broken Hearts Club and I finally re-watched Jeffrey. (Let's not even talk about the waste of film that was Old School. Ew. Ok? Just ew.)
So, yeah. That was my weekend convalescing at home. New accessories, cheerleading, gorgeous men who enjoy each other, and two viewings of Queer Eye.
Hello! Isn't it obvious that I feel better?
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