This Morning

Oh look! The sun is out! The sky is blue! Everything is beautiful and gorgeous (but probably still cold) in Paris!

Cough-cough-hack-cough-hack-sneeze-groan.

I'm not even kidding. I woke up this morning and it was like my own body was strangling me. Like I had stuffed pillows of snot down my throat to suffocate myself. I can't believe the only thing that went awry last night was throwing Chocolat off the top bunk. I should be sudden-undergrad-death-syndromed. Except I think that means alcohol poisoning, right?

I dragged myself out of bed anyway because today is the only day the entire week that is not suppose to be completely miserable, and cheered myself up with some Rainy-Day Paris Gambler's Dream Chai:

Sugar cubes in the shape of card suit symbols! As if I needed reason to back the extreme amount of sugar I put in my chai. No suit left behind.

So, listening to some Simon & Garfunkel, drinking my chai, feeling pretty good about the day and then bam! - I cough up a fully-formed, solid booger. Out of my mouth. Which flies onto my computer screen and just plants itself there like a willful, petulant little tike refusing to put on its shoes.

I just gagged, on the ridiculousness of it all. And then my roommate came in and cheerfully suggested I get some allergy medicine, as if I knew more French than "les filles courent." Is that even right?

P.S. Do you like how I just escalated this story to completely disgusting? Because I'm so frustrated right now. Sidenote: remember when blogging use to get me laid? THOSE DAYS 'RE OVER, BITCH.