As I suspected, the sickness is getting worse. My throat feels like it's got golfballs in it. My voice is steadily dropping, and I expect to have an adam's apple by late afternoon or so. Feel slightly woozy. This is no good.
At any rate--
marinatempest, last night, we went to a funky diner that you would love. Victorian wallpaper, leopard-print booths, crazy retro bits with creepy twists (dolls heads interspersed with golden pineapples and framed pinups). It looked very Vegas-y, in a way, but way more indie. It was called Yaffa Cafe, and the food was pretty damn good, too.
Tex is out running errands and picking up losenges for me. Before he left, he made me tea. BLAR for being sick. Ah well, brunch in a bit. I want chocolate-chip something. Pancakes, maybe. Or hey, I still have leftover nutella crepe from last night.
At any rate--
Tex is out running errands and picking up losenges for me. Before he left, he made me tea. BLAR for being sick. Ah well, brunch in a bit. I want chocolate-chip something. Pancakes, maybe. Or hey, I still have leftover nutella crepe from last night.
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