I woke up yesterday morning, throat on fire, achey and dizzy and gross.
So I spent seven hours on the couch watching Sex and the City episodes. Around nine o’clock last night, fueled on Neo Citran and green tea, I morphed completely into a neurotic Manhattan single woman. I craved Manolo Blahniks and fabulous outfits. It was really strange.
It’s still vestigially around now. Let’s see how that flies with E’s parents at dinner tonight.