I’m sick. I’m not talking “slight head cold” sick, I’m talking totally debilitating, head-exploding, body-aching type sick. I’m talking that one of my closest friends on this planet is currently in town for the first time in over a year, and I haven’t been well enough this week (which I had off work, might I add!) to see her but once.

The outrage of it all. I mean, really.

So it’s now 9:30 PM on a Saturday. I am sitting in bed, alone, eating a frozen juice bar because it’s the only thing I could think of that might soothe my fevered tongue. And, as I’ve been doing all afternoon, I am trying hard not to listen to my neighbor’s birthday party down the block, and more precisely their crappy ’80s cover band.

Plus I just discovered that I left my box of Kleenex in the living room when I migrated from couch to bed. Dangit!

And did I mention the Significant Other is currently out in Hawaii making autonomous sailboat history and/or trying to commit grievous bodily harm to himself? Right.

So here is my date for this hot Saturday night:

That’s right, people, the Hoff himself. (Kinda looks like he just had a head explosion himself!) Yes, I have turned to the wiles of People.com to entertain myself in this dire cold-induced situation.

In other words, I am sick of being sick. Enough already!

(PS Please note that the title of my date’s book is “Don’t Hassle the Hoff.” Oh man, that’s good writing.)

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