Soup, Tea and DayQuil

This weekend just past was supposed to be Busiest Weekend Evar. There was triple-booking both Saturday and Sunday. There were events all over the city (and out of it) to participate in. There was sun. There was Lambtown.

Instead, I spent all of Saturday in bed, except for the few times I got up to make soup or Cream of Wheat. In fact, Cream of Wheat has been the staple of my diet for the past 56 hours.

I did make an attempt to go out yesterday — the cabin fever was killing me, I caught myself sobbing for no reason on the kitchen floor at 1 in the morning. So I (deliriously) walked through the Castro Street Fair, and then probably did the stupid thing and walked from there to the N Train in Cole Valley (stupid because there's a HUGE F*CKING HILL in between), taking it to the Outer Sunset for some pho' before heading into the park for the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. I had a date with my friend Claire, and my ex. I didn't make it to see either of them.

It's the Jewish New Year this week (started Wednesday night/Thursday), so it's as good a time as any for this bacon-eating Jew to make a new resolution: For 5772, I will resolve to not get sick so often. Because damn. Nothing so sad as missing out on eating lamb and listening to live music.

Since I've already started out the year wrong (though to be honest, this illness is lingering remnants from last year, so it doesn't count, right?), it's going to be soup, tea and DayQuil for me the next few days. Hooray, hot liquids.