I thought I could beat whatever sickness had me down last week through sheer willpower and Ginger Ale. I was wrong. I stayed home last Thursday, feeling miserable, and finally drug myself to urgent care when my brain began to ooze out of my facial orifices. The doctor told me I have a double ear infection, which is just delightful. I haven't had an ear infection since I stopped playing with Barbie dolls (Age fifteen. Joke. Maybe). Anyway, my antibiotics have put the kick back in my step, although I am pretty sure I am still legally deaf. I was already dumb, so I am ahead of the game in that respect. Most of my sentences now consist of the single, slack-jawed "Huh?"
I spent most of my contagious period laying diagonally across my bed, rolling from one side to another, and wondering why the heck my ears hurt so darn much. It only served to reinforce how much I love naps and sleeping and then more sleeping after that. Bed is my main vice. I always kind of envied people with mono, because they had such a good excuse to sleep all the time.
My husband thought I would love this comedian who talks about bed with the kind of reverence we all should exhibit. It's downright funny and guaranteed to make you giggle at least once.