One of the joys of BHouse is constant exposure to communicable disease. Because of everything from moldy curtains to swarms of fruit flies to the entire third floor, the little Joes inside of me must perpetually toil to repel myriad invaders (some of my friends talk about white blood cells, but cells aren't in the Bible -- my geophysics research has convinced me of the merits of Young Earth Creationism). Despite the best efforts of my diminutive counterparts, I was mercilessly assaulted in my sleep after the midnight showing of Transformers 2.
Incidentally, in a fatigued delirium, I may have told some of you that it was a good movie. This is true in the sense that leprous rats are a tasty and nutritious afternoon snack. That is, unless you have a special fantasy about vapid dialogue and irresolvable combat scenes (or an exploited Megan Fox, I suppose), it would be better to go research medieval intergalactic communication techniques or something.
Anywho, for the last week, swallowing has been more painful than reading anything written by William Kristol (owie!). On Monday, I succumbed for the first time in my Yale career to the pains of illness and dragged myself to DUH. I walked out with a negative strep test, a pricked arm, a bottle of penicillin, and a pamphlet about mono. OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE! Using that excuse, I spent the rest of the day at home, perfecting my abilities to blend in with the perpetrators of the inevitable zombie apocalypse (muuugghhhh). This morning, though, I received word that my blood test was normal, and I'm probably suffering from, "an unspecified virus thing" and that the penicillin should provide, "some relief." So, that's why I'm taking antibiotics for a viral infection.
I'm feeling much better, and before the SummerBuds field trip to the New Haven library, I should be ready to BRING THE RAIN!
4 years ago