I haven't strayed from my apartment for the past day and a half. I went to bed at 8 pm last night. I worry now, in my uniform of leggings and a sweatshirt, that I am a doomed introvert, shut-in who will turn pale and atrophy. Why is it always those fears instead of just I need the rest. Instead of forgiveness and kindness, there is usually critique. I'll be putting on real clothes in a bit for some coffee time with Meg and a semblance of a lunch break, but in the meantime, I'm relishing these past few rainy days and the guilt-free rest they've provided. And Mike for serving as a perfectly good pillow on the couch last night.
I also have a killer ulcer in my mouth right now, the evil spawn of a moment of oh-shit-that's-not-my-sandwich-that's-my-cheek. If anyone has tips on how to get rid of this thing, do tell.