Ibe too sexy for by shird

So I'm still sick, even though I feel a tiny bit better. Only my cold has progressed to my nose, which is never a good thing. And now I sound like a chain-smoking transexual who sings bass.

I did, though, turn in the two pieces of work that were due today. Rejoice with me! And now I'm working on a 2,000 word essay about the history of women in librarianship (Alternate title: "How The Man is keeping us down!"). This would have been a piece of cake back when I was an undergrad and in the habit of churning out essays, but now I am all rusty an' junk.

Then sweet WR is coming over to take care of me and look over the website I have to finish by Friday, becase he is lovely. I am, of course, v. excited to see WR and to have attention and orange juice and Christmas movies, but I'm not sure how much he will enjoy his evening with a sickly mouth-breather. I can just see it now:

Me, trying to look alluring: "So . . . coughhackcough . . . wadda cub over an' sit odd byy side of the couch?"

WR: "Um, do you need some tissues? Here, let me go get some."

Me: "Doe, doe, stay here! I'b fide!"

Then I will lean in to kiss him, and he will pull back, alarmed.

WR: "Errrrrr. . . can't we just just, like, cuddle?"

Me: "Whad! Are you sayig you don' want subba this?" coughhackchokecoughsniffffle

WR: "Ah . . . not at the moment, no."

Oh yeah.

Ibe too sexy.

Posted in: England