Much as I would like to make a life-changing commentary about our mortal existence (as if) or reveal the secrets of the universe(wow), this weeks blog wouldn't even be close to making sense. I've been sick the whole week ever since labor day. This cough is driving me nuts. I mean, I can't even get four (4) hours of sleep, I feel like a zombie, and I still haven't seen spiderman 3 'coz I don't wanna run the risk of having irrate theater goers turning into a lynch mob upon hearing some hacking cough destroy their, otherwise, fun movie experience.
I should be in bed right now, I should be resting this tired throat. Instead, Im at the office being the dutiful worker that I am. Bumming around with a blog and not even doing a single page of my rather "late" magazine layout doesn't really qualify me as a "dutiful" worker but hey, I'm here, ain't I?
During these times, I remember my Mom. A nurse by profession, she always has a quick remedy for anything that ails me and my siblings. We can never get any excuse to skip class through her. Whenever I pull out the "Mom! I'm sick, I can't go to class" excuse, she comes in my room, armed with paracetamol or mefenamic acid or salbutamol or loperamide or carbosistein or God-knows-what-else. In fact, I remember generic names of medicine more vividly than anything else in my childhood.
I gotta stop doing this now... My head hurts just thinking of my next sentence. Spiderman's gonna have to wait.
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