Third Time's a Charm?

So, 2009 started off not with me waking up in a strange cutie’s bed, hung over and resolving to never again mix port with Jagermeister, but with the flu and no one other than my cat to cuddle. This flu lasted three weeks. It was not pretty. I went through several boxes of tissues, took multiple midnight trips to the local grocer trying to find some new-fangled drugs to knock me out, and developed an unhealthy addiction to cough syrup. Finally, it subsided. For two whole weeks. And then I was hit again. This time, I was ready. Upon feeling that first tickle in the back of my throat while at my accountant’s office, I made a hasty departure and sped off to the nearest pharmacy in search of Cold-Eeze. I sucked on those things for seven days straight until my cold ultimately gave up and packed it in. Surely, I was done being sick for 2009.

Joyously germ-free, celebrating the spring sunshine, tooling around Venice and Santa Monica, downing sake and proseco, and basking in the glory of a carefree Sunday spent with friends, all was beautiful in Lucie-ville. Until I woke up the next morning feeling like some evil storybook trolls had entered my bedroom overnight and poured acid down my throat, filled my nostrils with quick-drying cement, and poked my eardrums with their tiny troll flatware.

FUCK!

How did this happen…again?!