sick

So I really like living alone, don't get me wrong. I have no one's mess to deal with but my own. No one comes home routinely at an ungodly hour to wake me up during the night. I like everything that's hanging on my walls. I don't have to compete for the bathroom, or pay a share for someone else's need for cable that I don't partake of. When I clean my kitchen at night, its still nice and clean when I get up in the morning. Love that. I don't have to give neurotic roommates many days notice before I have someone over. I can keep the temperature where its comfortable for me. I don't come home to my apartment smelling of greasy cube steak or any other smells strange and foreign to me. Bottom line, no drama. Peace and quiet.

But, when I am sick, that's when the charm seems to wear off a little.

I hate that I have to go out when I feel like crap and get my own dang soup. Or that I don't drink the tea in my pantry that would be good for me right now, because I just don't feel up to making it for myself. As someone who works all day as a care provider for others, it always just seems particularly sad when no one's around to help take care of you when you need it.

High fives to my friends Tim, and Heather though, two awesome people who have both brought me gatorade when I realllly needed it=) Tim also brought cat litter once because when I was so sick I was delusional and crashed out on the living room floor, the cat box had gotten so full that it was one solid, giant, hard lump of clumping litter and the cat had no where left to go. He even offered to clean it out for me! But I knew it was an impossible feat so I told him to just pour some new litter on top, heh. I hardly knew him at the time too. Had met him a few times I believe. Still laugh about that.

Anyway, I dragged myself to the store, got some soup, its in the fridge for later. Bedtime.