F You, Cupid

I think it's almost absurdly appropriate that I am ringing in Valentine's Day wondering if I am going to die in my sleep because I am ridiculously sick for the third time this month.

First I had the stomach flu. Then while I was getting over that and enjoying my ability to eat food again, I was immediately hit with strep throat. I decided that since the internet said it was ok, drinking while taking antibiotics was perfectly acceptable. (Granted, it hasn't been one of my best ideas.)

And that brings us to today and why I cannot breathe out of my nose and my entire body feels arthritic. Although I maintain that the drinking while finishing my antibiotics had little if nothing to do with it.

When I was complaining to R about my poorly-functioning immune system, we had the following conversation:

Me: MAYBE the drinking and going out til dawn has played a small part.

R: Maybe.

Me: But I ask you, why do I seem to get every bug in existence? What is up with my immune defenses?

R: How many guys exactly have you made out with in the past month?

Me: Hold on, I need to check my calendar. Give me a sec.

R: S, if you have to count, that should be your answer right there.

Touche, R, touche.

So apparently, my punishment is being bed-ridden on the one day of the year you can guarantee that desperate single people are out and about on the prowl in the city on the one year it happens to fall on a Saturday. It seems like some sort of cruel trick the universe is playing on me.

Although, this is probably good news for all the overly cutesy couples out there that I would inevitably throw something at should I encounter them in a restaurant or bar. (What? It's only happened once before...)

I will now proceed to curl up with my tissues, cough syrup, and reruns of Gilmore Girls.

Happy Valentine's Day!