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I was going to put in a much more interesting entry than this one. Maybe share something else I've written, or give y'all the latest Artboy tidbit, but I can't.
I feel crappy.
And no, it has nothing to do with my "fat" entry earlier.
I am going home to crawl back into bed. I don�t know when I�m coming back to my desk. But it won�t be today.
My voice sounds like a cross between Kathleen Turner and Grover. My nose has required the attention of an entire hospital box of tissues. I can�t hear very much through my blocked ears.
Yep, bed is sounding better all the time.
Chris and I are supposed to go get a tree tonight.
Ugh.
Could I feel less like Christmas?
Not Bloody likely.
I promise, I'll be more interesting later.
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