Congested thoughts

Thoughts on a sick saturday...

I wish we could order juice here.  Like in New York.  Where we could wake up and order a full breakfast from that shady diner on 116th and Park and have eggs and juice and happiness while only walking 15 feet to the front door.

How do they get lotion into tissues? 

Does my apartment smell ok?  I'm not sure.  I did dishes just in case.  Ran the garbage disposal.  Cooked some spaghetti sauce and lit a candle.  I still can't smell anything. I'm exhausted.

Now that I've hacked all over my Mexican blanket, is it infected?  Do I have to wash it?  Will it stop being as amazingly soft?  Has there ever been a blanket in the history of the world softer than my Mexican blanket?

How do people always know I've been sleeping when I answer the phone? I try so hard so sound awake.  Maybe if my job didn't require me to be on call to exam proctors all day on Saturdays no one would have to know how much I nap.  Or maybe I should practice my awake "hello" so that I can do it even in my sleep.  If I ever have enough energy for something like that.

Maybe I'll have some answers when I feel better.