Currently, I've got a thermometer in my mouth. I don't really know why - I'm pretty sure my temperature is normal. It was like 97.5 the last two times I checked, but I think I'm just checking again because it was sitting in front me of. It's a curiosity thing. Like a less-terrifying version of "Hey, there's a scale sitting on the ground. I wonder what I weigh?" I feel like it's also a sign of adulthood, though. Owning your own thermometer. It means I don't expect Mommy to take my temperature again, or even to supply the First Aid kit.
Wow, shocker. My temperature is 98.9 degrees now. Does that mean, like, borderline fever? My mom said I should buy the thermometer because Swine Flu is going around... and then she actually named people she knew who had it. So I bought one.
Fever or no fever, I'm pretty bored. I've watched enough SportsCenter to make my HEAD explode and just can't watch the Phillies beat the Reds 22-1 anymore. I mean, it was funny to see the Not Top 10 of the Mets' dismal season, but once you've seen it twice, it falls more into the category of "depressing" instead of "hilarious."
So I decided that even though I'm all sniffly and feverish, I'd blog about my weekend and remember the days when I wasn't confined to the couch because my attempt to get off it was unsuccessful. (Note: The attempt this morning involved getting ready for work, stepping on the L train, and only making it to 3rd Avenue before I almost passed out on the crowded subway. Everything was going black and I couldn't breath. I had to escape the subway car and squat on the ground in the subway station until I could breath well enough to make it to the wooden seats. Yup, I think the couch was calling to me to take one more day off...)
I should do this quickly - SoapNet has a few episodes of the O.C. on at 3 and I have two cartons of ice cream that aren't going to eat themselves. So here goes.
Yes, that IS the new Yankee Stadium, where The Boyfriend and I went on the Fourth of July to do some of the most patriotic things a pair of hot-blooded American 20-somethings can do: Eat hot dogs and hamburgers, sing both the National Anthem AND God Bless America, and revile people for getting paid millions of dollars and failing to do their job right. (I'm talking about YOU Robinson Cano.) It was a nice time, albeit a sunny and rather long game that went into extra innings but paid off with a win for the Yanks. It was also nothing short of hilarious to accompany The Boyfriend to a baseball event, possibly our first sporting event together, and observe the different styles of baseball-watching. [Him: It's f*cking ridiculous that he didn't just lay down the bunt. Me: I love everyone! And everything! Etc...] But I got a sunburn that turned into a sun tan and felt oddly proud to be an American on the Fourth of July. Weird, right?
This is our view from the rooftop of where I intern, at Martha Stewart Living. It was basically THE perfect place to see the Macy's fireworks. The Boyfriend and I packed a picnic of pasta that we ate out of plastic cups and watched at least four different barges set off fireworks while the station on the roof was turned to the radio broadcast of totally cheesy, wonderful American music. I've never been a huge fan of fireworks - I used to plug my ears when I was young, yes I was THAT kid - but these were just amazing. And to watch them with someone I really like was pretty fantastic... a Fourth of July to remember.
But now, of course, reality sets back in. And not even the "Oh, weekend's over, back to work" kind, because I can't even make it to work in one piece. I've watched, like, fifteen episodes of 30 Rock and have decided that I want to be Liz Lemon for Halloween. I've replaced many a meal with ice cream, all while telling myself it's to "soothe my throat." And I've traipsed about my apartment making little whimpering noises that no one can hear, looking out my window at my backyard and talking to the trees, saying "I don't feel good..." Yeah, it's weird, but maybe I DO have a fever. Maybe I should check again. I mean, the thermometer's RIGHT here....
Okay, 98.6. Totally normal. But I don't feel totally normal, so I am headed back to the couch.
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