Most of the time, I love living alone.
Except when I'm sick.
I was trapped in bed for HOURS yesterday, needing water, so parched, but not having the energy to, you know, get up and get it myself. And the cat was no help. No help at all.
This is why I should have a roommate. Or a houseboy. Or a boyfriend.
Also, it would be nice to have someone to:
1) Rub my sore, sore muscles.
2) Make me soup.
3) Carry me from the couch to the bed and back.
4) Go buy "Elf" on DVD because I really want to watch it.
5) Pet my hair soothingly.
I'm at work today for a bit, 'cause I have things to do, like coughing germs all over Wednesday lunch, but the CEO already tried to send me home once. So I imagine I'll be out of here in a few hours.
And then back to bed, and NyQuil, and "How I Met Your Mother", and...maybe a deathbed visit from Ginger Squared.