Sick, Sick, Sick

Every now and again I walk around repeating phrases in a tone like Eloise. For anyone who isn't familiar with Eloise, she is an entitled six-year-old child living in the Plaza Hotel in NYC circa the 1950s.

She repeats herself to make a point and uses a strong accent to do so. Today, as Eloise, I say, "I am sick, sick, sick." This cold has been building over the past couple of days, and each day so far I have muddled through with the assumption that it would of course be the worst day of it. And that brings us to today - sick, sick, sick. In my Nyquil and otherwise self-medicated sleep this morning, I had a VERY real-feeling dream of being at the triathlon next weekend, although everything - the packet pickup, the race, random associated events - was happening simultaneously. I thought I had what I needed, somehow I couldn't track down my number, I went to ask for help and the women (I don't know why, but in the dream it was an all-female event) were very irritated with me because not only did I not know what I was doing, but I was new and in the way, and clearly not cut out to participate in their event. And then I woke up. So, on top of sick, sick, sick, I am nervous, nervous, nervous.