Towel Day, and I'm Home with a cold...

It's towel day today, and instead of carrying a towel everywhere to celebrate and remember the life of the ever so amazing Douglas Adams, I'm not going anywhere because I'm home, sick. I have a weekend to get better, and during that time hopefully to get some work done too. BUT: I'm doing my bit. I'm wearing my dressing gown all day long, just like Arthur. (Fine. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm sick as well.. and it's the most comfortable thing I can wear around to keep me warm.) I shall also try to squeeze is as many Marvin quote as I can in the day, which probably isn't that much different from how I usually talk. ("I thought I'll just let you know... I'm very depressed today"...)

Anyway.

My cold has gave me new insight to my bone structure: you never really think about them until they all hurt at once. It's getting better though, last night I could hardly sleep. I was just lying in bed thinking "Ouch ouch ouch pain! Pain!" You know how sometimes you get the strangest dreams when you're sick and in and out of a fever? No? (Actually, maybe they're not any stranger than my usual dream...) I was dreaming that I was watching (or writing, I couldn't tell) an episode of House M.D., and House was in a coma. He woke up and lost all his memories as to who he was, but he faintly remembers that he was a doctor and wanted to go back to med school to be a doctor again. Later he found out that he's not really House M.D., but Hugh Laurie himself. He was the one in a coma and only rememebr the part of himself that was House.

You know, that would make for some rather interesting existential story. My subconcious might be trying to tell me something. I'm just too sick to think about it right now...