![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
One of my problems when I'm sick (other than just BEING sickly, ugh), is that I feel guilty about it. I should be Doing Stuff. I should be writing, or sewing, or or or not having to be taken care of. Yes, I know, it doesn't make any sense, and certainly won't help me get better. But I can't help it.
Of course, while being flopped on the Couch Of Plague, I have come up with two different clothing alteration projects that I want to do RIGHT NOW. But I do realize that trying to wield scissors, pins, and needles would probably not be a particularly clever thing to do right now. Not to mention that all I really have energy for is being curled up on the Couch Of Plague. Good lord, READING is tiring, which is pretty much a sign of the apocalypse in JilliLand.
Bleah. So, so tired of feeling wretched. And I bet I won't feel magically All Better tomorrow, either.
Of course, while being flopped on the Couch Of Plague, I have come up with two different clothing alteration projects that I want to do RIGHT NOW. But I do realize that trying to wield scissors, pins, and needles would probably not be a particularly clever thing to do right now. Not to mention that all I really have energy for is being curled up on the Couch Of Plague. Good lord, READING is tiring, which is pretty much a sign of the apocalypse in JilliLand.
Bleah. So, so tired of feeling wretched. And I bet I won't feel magically All Better tomorrow, either.