So I turned 27 last week. And I’m sick. That’s nice.

Last year on my birthday I was in Boston with my brother before flying to England to live and explore for a few months. This year I took the day off work, did some errands, talked to my parents and some siblings, got a free massage, and watched Fantastic Beasts. My throat was pretty sore that morning, but I soldiered on, taking some comfort in the orange juice not hurting when I drank it. This appears to be a normal cold, i’m just paranoid when it comes to sickness.

I kind of figured before going to sleep that night that I wouldn’t feel any better in the morning. And things didn’t disappoint. I called in sick to work (which feels a little dodgy, taking a sick day immediately after a vacation day, but the cops haven’t bust down my door yet) and went back to sleep.

Not going to work really messes with your sense of time. Waking up on Saturday, my third day of no work, and realizing I have a whole weekend ahead of me, though it won’t be all that awesome since I still can’t breathe through my nose, and the coughing, while no longer hurting my throat, is now much more… productive.

It’s a good thing I’m doing so well on the anti-porn front, or this super-long weekend would probably be the death of me. Three weeks and counting. But it is scary to do so well. It’s like when nothing scary has happened for a while in a horror movie. You know things are about to go wrong any second now, and all you can do is move on with your life and hope you can handle the storm when it comes back.

I think I’m going to do laundry today. I’ve been meaning to do it for a while, and I’m missing church today due to plague. That’ll make me feel better (which is one of the most adult things I’ll ever say).