I don't know if you've met me or not, but if I am the slightest bit sick or sleepy or stressed, I am very easily annoyed by people that I don't normally care for in the first place. Here, my friends, is a list of things that have driven me up the wall in the past veinticuatro hours.
random, stupid noises
indoor third floor basketball
whispering that is just as loud as normal talking
the awkward asking of permission to smoke pot in the shower
the fact that DayQuil doesn't taste like a milkshake
sounding like I'm Kathleen Turner
sniffling
the abrasive feel of four hundred tissues being wiped across my nose
sleeping with my head elevated
and, perhaps the worst of it all:
not being around the person who made me sick in the first place
But I quibble. I'm not really that sick, I'm just a psychological hypochondriac and freak myself out to this massive extent. In reality (and not this strange Woody Allen-land in which I so frequently live) my life pretty absurdly fantastic and I am excited for callbacks for Dog Sees God tonight and for rehearsals for The Medium to begin. And to see him. And to see him.
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