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(originally posted to Diaryland.com, 2003-09-17 - 10:30 p.m.)
God, I hate being sick.
It feels like I have the flu. My hands ache (not much fun when you have to paint 22 comic pages, plus a cover), my head aches, my throat burns like I swallowed hot ashes, I'm tired, depressed, and generally out of sorts. Severe mood swings always accompany illness for me, and I've been alternately wanting to cry and ready to tear into my husband (or myself) in a fit of fury. Even more than the physical discomfort, I detest the feeling of utter *uselessness* that comes with sickness.
Tomorrow I have a shift on the phones at Ipsos-Reid, and the best thing I can do right now is NOT think about that. Just take things one minute at a time. The prospect of the running around I have to do tomorrow before going to work is just too much to handle.
God, I hate being sick.
It feels like I have the flu. My hands ache (not much fun when you have to paint 22 comic pages, plus a cover), my head aches, my throat burns like I swallowed hot ashes, I'm tired, depressed, and generally out of sorts. Severe mood swings always accompany illness for me, and I've been alternately wanting to cry and ready to tear into my husband (or myself) in a fit of fury. Even more than the physical discomfort, I detest the feeling of utter *uselessness* that comes with sickness.
Tomorrow I have a shift on the phones at Ipsos-Reid, and the best thing I can do right now is NOT think about that. Just take things one minute at a time. The prospect of the running around I have to do tomorrow before going to work is just too much to handle.
