On being sick

This morning, Clint asked me how I felt to be 27. I said sick and tired. I started the day thinking that it wouldn't be too bad to be sick on my birthday. Naps, taking it easy...it all sounded good. But my head is getting more fuzzy and nothing sounds interesting. But the rest of the year should be up hill from here, right?

You know, for the NaBloPoMo, I thought writing around Thanksgiving would be the hardest. But I think sick is my not-so-favorite-have-to-post-time. I'll try and come up with something better for tomorrow.