migraine schmaigraine

the best part of a sick day is the hope of the morning, when i think that maybe my migraine meds will kick in, maybe my head WON'T keep me in bed all day, with the lights off, and maybe i'll get to enjoy the day. i can read a book! watch my netflix movies! marvel at star jones' weight! perhaps even catch up on some much-needed sleep, since my insomnia is at an all-time high thanks to the absence certain other aids.
then of course, you realize the reason you called in sick in the first place is that your headache really IS crippling, and that any movement other than moving your fingers just so, for typing and lowering the volume on the tv, is more work than you can fathom.
i really thought i would finish that book today. it looks like all i'll be doing is laying in bed, worrying about school applications, a dirty apartment, and how i have no one to discuss The Shield with. for this, i should have gone to work.
also, daytime television is so terrible, i'm about to drag my sorry ass, with this tangle of curls, beater, and enormous sweatpants, to work, just to avoid Judge Hatchett and The View. How the hell did Star Jones lose all that weight?! ugh.
santiago hasn't even gotten up from underneath the covers yet, and it's almost noon!

what kind of life is this!??!?!?!?!? i officially hate being home sick.