So last nights "I might be getting sick" has progressed into I am definitely sick. My eyes are prickly. My nose is sniffly. My throat is on fire. But do I give in? No! It's my day off. I refuse to be sick on my day off. Tomorrow when I work, I can be sick so I can call out and enjoy being sick. Shut up. It makes sense to me.
I have to go get my hair done. Woo! Hours at my hairdressers. I adore this, okay. This is one of my most girly features. Nothing makes me happier than sitting in a hair salon all day long and get my hair cut, coloured, highlighted and whatever else I feel like getting done. Like my eyebrows. Woo! Waxing here I come. Then I have to go get my ring because it was being sized. This one is never coming off because I refuse to let it get lifted again. Grr.
I'm currently sitting in the armchair downstairs, watching the dog scratch and listening to Pop (U2's) on the DVD player. The pigs are snuffling and squeaking around their cage because I played the buried treat game. I hide a bunch of the little orange and yogurt drops they love in the food and bedding and they hunt for them. Antigone is doing great. The collar has been off since yesterday morning and she hasn't been picking at it. Though, the damn collar cut into her neck pretty badly and she's got horrible cuts on her neck which I'm now treating as well. As my mom said "Poor thing can't get a break."
Okay. My coffee is done. Ta-ta.
