Sick. Really sick. Like deathly sick. In bed, trying to live just . . . a . . . little . . . longer. The fact that I’m typing right now is amazing. I have a feeling this week is going to be a TOTAL BUST. Nothing will get done but the passage of snot and mucous through my nasal cavities. Let me make this clear — clearer than my congested head . . . I’m not going to write anything else. And because of that, I think sickness can be equated with procrastination . . .forced procrastination. Enjoy.
© 2012 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved.
351/365 – ILL
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Something is not right . . . Something is very not right. Last night . . . What did I do? I had some Tiki …
Newer: 352/365 – Breaking Bad (And Flu Pass Times) →
. . . . . Oh, hi there. I didn’t see you creeping up on my blog . . . BECAUSE I’M STILL SICK. Seriously. …