Sudafed High

Went to work on Monday.  I was not, you know, healthy enough to go to work, but there was something important going down in the morning, so I pumped myself full of meds (Sudafed Cold & Cough) and went in.

(Somewhat annoyingly, I had my best hair day in, like, two weeks.  I hadn't been able to let my hair air dry in London, so it had been blow-dried flat and frizzy for the whole trip.  Back in LA, I finally got all my curls back.  With a vengeance.)

I came to work carrying a box of Kleenex.  Gave my boss the cheerful news that I was sick.  (It's sometimes hard for people to tell when you're suitably drugged.  I mean, listening to my own voice, I think I sounded somewhat congested, but I guess it didn't sound that way to outsiders.)  Told the boss he had me for the morning -- or, more precisely, "until the Sudafed wears off."  My boss (who gained several cool points on Monday) rescheduled an afternoon meeting to the morning so that I could participate and still make it home before I disintegrated into a big pile of used tissue.

My cat has been taking good care of me -- staying in the same room I'm in and dropping by my lap for frequent doses of Kitty Love.  The other day, she did the nicest thing a cat can possibly do for a human -- she threw up in her food bowl!  Honestly.  Not even a drop on the mat.  Is that the best or what?