Do not, I repeat, do NOT get any kind of sick/ill/diseased the last week of school...in case you forgot, those days contain FINALS. And lots of them.
Who the beep gets sick and rejoices, "Woot! Now I have every right to stay in bed and study my butt off!" cuz that's exactly what I wanna do when my head is committing mutiny right in front of my face...sort of. That was my boyfriend's ever timely optimism shining through. What a peachy child he is.
This weekend should have been calculated planning and studying of various musical courses but instead it turned into me blobbing on the couches of multiple friends, sucking up water like some sort of mutated maelstrom (bonus to being sick: you get to think up awesome words like "maelstrom" that you would never use otherwise), and obliterating every kleenex box in sight. Remember me mentioning superpowers? There's another one.
In all reality, I would rather be sick now and just slug my way through this final, last week of school than be stuck with this debilitating bug for the first darn week of summer. That would be a bummer (another fact: rhyming is a lot more comical to a clogged brain). Plus it gives me a slightly-less-than-pathetic excuse as to why I may or may not inevitably FAIL said finals and the classes wherein they apply to.
MacGamut. It's a curse.
All in all, though, just skip the sick and stay healthy. I'm not sure what I did this time to fall ill, usually I can kinda think back and say, "Yeaaaah, I guess that would make somebody sick" but this time it snuck in whilst I was sleeping.
Although! This just came to me-- being sick is the perfect time to test your significant other. If they can still smile at you and kiss your forehead after you've been wallowing like an obese walrus (can they even be obese?), surrounded by tufted remnants of what used to be a pile of tissues, complete with unwashed hair and slimy vaseline surrounding your dripping nostrils, not to mention the squalid squelching sound (I am on a roll with these literary puns and stuff!) of your sniffling then you may have just found the only saint walking this planet. Or possibly my boyfriend. So back off. I'm possessive and have a fascination with shovels.
In other news, I experienced possibly the most entertainingly awkward situation of my young life today. My grandmother, bless her, has followed the way of all the earth and is currently vegging at a sort of mini old folks' home. I say 'vegging' cuz they give her pills to help her "relax" and she kind of relaxes a bit too much. But anway, today being Mothers' Day, my dear sweet mother had the brilliant idea of dragging our ridiculously-obnoxious-to-move harp halfway across the valley to go play music for these elderly folk. Little did I know there would be a grand total of 9 occupants in this cozy little home with about 2 who are actually lucid. We set up to the complete glazed unawareness of the cute old people and my sister and I played a small selection of shorter songs for them.
But that's not the awkward part. I love old people, I had no problem doing this. Granted, I'm not sure some of them were even aware of their surroundings but that's beside the point. One fellow, I'm guessing late 80's, was having a bit of trouble remaining awake. Only, every time he drooped even halfway into napping-mode he'd immediately begin moaning. Not a quite little mouse moan. That guy can project...in his sleep. It was like a perpetual old man orgasm. I didn't know whether to blush or laugh.
I hope I die before I get to that point. If I don't know where I am, who I'm talking with and can't keep up with which meal goes when I don't think I really need to be a showcase on how to drool pretty pictures on the armchair.
Well, Happy Mothers' Day and I'll let turn the time over to these good fellows--