March 8, 2004
Brought to you by the letter "O"
For "Ow."
1:32am: I can't sleep. My throat is raw from who-knows-what. I need some tea, but there is no sympathetic spouse here to make it for me. I keep glancing meaningfully at the pantry doors, hoping the Universe will take my hint and tea will make itself. But I suspect that all of my Universe-bashing in the post below leaves me on some sort of Infinity blacklist, on which people don't get tea made for them by the Universe.
I'm avoiding bed. At the desk, there are interesting things to read about cigars, donuts, body modification and the most awful movies ever made.
In bed there's just a pain in your throat that seems disproportionately worse because there's nothing to take your mind off of it.
Comments
I will use my ineffable powers as the oh god of orgasms to make you tea. However, how much cosmic juristiction I have may be limited in the tea area, but I'll see what I can do.
Hope you feel better babe!