I'm the most clichéd sick person ever right now: The weather is gloomy and it's raining buckets, I lost my voice while calling in to work, there's a gallon of orange juice in the fridge, a quart of the best chicken vegetable noodle soup on the planet (from The Factory), peppermint tea, Oprah (they were on their honeymoon and the groom just disappeared!), blue moon pajamas that you all know so well, and Harper's Bazaar, which promises to tell me about how Jennifer Aniston apparently has a whole new life. Not to mention quite a tan.
This is the second time this year I've gotten sick, and I'm not usually someone who gets colds. I don't know what the hell is up with my immune system (it can handle a New England winter but abandons me in June?) but I'm attempting to ply it with vitamin C, extra strength Tylenol and the Travel Channel. After last summer's parasite, I can't be brought down by a few piddly little germs. Strong like bull.