Stopped dead in my tracks.

Nothing like feeling sick to the core to stop you dead in your tracks.

As I sat waiting, there he was, behind me, coughing — hand half covering his mouth. And just like that, his germs escaped the uncovered half, and traveled into my body. And that right there, was the ominous moment.

My body tried to fight it, but by the following evening I was already feeling the scratch at the back of my throat, and by thursday I had no voice to speak of, literally. Dead in my tracks I was stopped. I suppose this was just what I needed to feel guilt-free about not doing any work.

And so I proceeded to do what any respectable sick person would do — enjoy the calm moments in between the wheezing, sniffling, and coughing.

Pink hair, don’t care.

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Old shoebox nail polish finds.

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Impatiently waiting for beef stew to slow cook.

Trying to snuggle with this elusive one.

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Feeling “tracked” after an online shoe purchase.

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Inspired by wise words from Lady Gaga!

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Fluffer Nutter sandwich lunch.

Impatiently peeking in, yet again.

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I finally joined the “Fitbit Crowd”.

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Will the real #Drumpf please stand up.

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On a much better note, dinner was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Guess it’s not so bad being stopped in my tracks.

 

 

 

 

 

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