Rants From My Deathbed: Distressed Damsel-Dar

So I am super sick, convinced, actually, that I have the flu in the dead of summer. Earlier today I declared myself near death (it hurt to hold my head up and I had a fever and chills) and called out of work, which I NEVER do. (I'm anal that way.) Four packets of TheraFlu and half a 12 pack of DayQuil later, I'm finally drugged into numbness and I've positioned myself in such a way that gravity won't allow my nose to run while I type. (All that said, I apologize in advance if this blog makes no sense.) I'd continue to give you all the intricate un-fascinating details of my illness, but that is not the point.

The point is that I think being sick is like best thing that has ever happened to my romantic life. Now that I'm weak and co-dependent (ie, a damsel in distress) every man I've ever batted a waterproof mascara coated lash at is offering to come to my rescue (ie, be my knight in shining armor). Without any call of duty, they are suddenly willing to go above and beyond.


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