So I'm still alive - three days holed up in the apartment hacking and coughing and sleeping with zero shopping (not even online) was apparently not enough to kill me. Lady Gaga saved me, because Bad Romance was all I listened to the entire weekend. I love her so much I actually bought the song and the video in iTunes.
It's actually not as bad as the previous one, although I kinda wish it is because I swear I must've lost 10 pounds then (and gained it all back but that's another story). I tried to subsist on BioFlu and this morning I was actually a lot better so I reported to work. By a lot better I mean I can actually get up and food is starting to taste like something other than snot (I swear everything - clam chowder, cheese spread, spicy ramen - tasted like phlegm).
I tried my best to convince the boss that I'm fine (I wasn't) and I don't need to go to the doctor (I really didn't) but he'd have none of it and insisted I visit the pink-stethoscope-toting doctor. It was actually quite fun because our GA staff is always a riot. Like no matter how stressed out I am every time I see her around the office I always end up grinning. And she calls me "skinny" (and now her daughter does, too). Anyway so the doctor listens to whatever sound comes out of that pink stethoscope and gives me the exact same prescription he gave me before. So now I'm back to downing six pills after every meal. Oh, how fun.
I'm hoping to bounce back before the coming weekend. I'm thisclose to panic-pasalubong-buying and I hate it.