Friday, October 16, 2009

Gotta Have That Funk

I guess my immune system isn't as strong as I thought it was. I caught some kind of bug in the poker room last night, and I'm already feeling it. I know exactly who I caught it from--one of the regulars who is waaaaay too touchy for me, but he managed to get his hands on me several times while we were playing. I hate it--it gives me the creeps, but he's a nice guy--I was just stuck sitting next to him for a couple of hours.

It's not like he's a perv or anything like that, he just insists on patting my hand or grabbing my arm whenever we're talking. And he was coughing every few minutes, telling the dealer that he's been sick lately. Nice, huh? And even though I changed seats as soon as one became available, I still picked up his crud. It sucks, because I've already started with the occasional cough, even though I Zicamed the shiat out of my throat as soon as I got home. I can just feel my system going into overdrive trying to fight it off, but I can tell that my body is already sick.

And to make matters worse, I got completely hosed in the poker game last night, too. Bad beat after bad beat. I was living in River City, and not living well. I could run them down and tell you all about 'em, but just let me give you a taste of the two worst ones--Two different people crushed me with one-outers on huge pots. Coupled with the germy funk in the air, it was a sick night all around.

Being used to the graveyard hours, I stayed up once I gave up and came home at three this morning. Unable to sleep, I've been scrubbin' the house--doing the oddball stuff that sometimes gets overlooked--like cleaning out the fridge and reclaiming all of my Rubbermaid storage bowls from the science projects growing within each of them. Yep, the ol' garbage disposal got a workout this morning. After that, I 409'd everything, inside and out, and now all I have left to do is take out the garbage and mop the floor. That comes in a few minutes--right now I'm taking a break.

Once I got the dishwasher running and the rest of the kitchen sanitized, I hit the bathroom with a vengeance. My eyes are still burning from all of the bleach, but now the tub, toilet, and vanity are scrubbed cleaner than the luv-tub at the Imperial Palace after Angy checks in. Of course, the whole back half of the apartment smells like a swimming pool, but I'm hoping the fumes I'm breathing kill all the little nasties that are trying to take up residence in my lungs.

I've got to go to bed at some point--I'm tired, but not sleepy yet. And AC is coming over to watch the baseball games this afternoon, so I've got to get some rest. And after that, I've got to head over to the Rio and meet up with Ed tonight, too.

I'm hoping that once I lay down and get some sleep, I don't wake up feeling like complete shiat. But I just *know* that it's gonna happen that way. Crappy way to spend the weekend, huh? I'd hate to miss out on an opportunity for quality buffoonery because I'm laid up in bed for three days. At the very least, I guess I could hit up Walgreen's and buy a bagful of drugs, because somehow or another, I've got to tear this mother out...


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