How Elizabeth May or May Not Have Survived the Heat

Me and the heat. We are not friends. In fact, I would murder it if I could, like the parents in The Closer episode tonight, who loved their son, but had to kill him for the good of the world. That's how I feel about One Hundred Degrees (OHD).

OHD made my lip swell up, he turned my stomach, and OHD, who I suspect masquerades as strep in his spare time, bit me viciously on the throat like an evil vampire.

So what did I do? I fought OHD bravely (read: wearily and complainingly) with air conditioning, movies and good food.

I saw most of High Fidelity for the first time (I was dozing in and out while holding an ice pack on my throat) and happily woke up in time to see Jack Black singing Let's Get it On.

But before that, I totally chilled in the movie theater and watched Luke Wilson in Henry Poole is Here. Luke Wilson + Great Music + Extra Tired = Happy Dreams.

The rain and clouds are working hard to heal the sun damage. Praise the Good Lord. And I really do mean that. I still have a sore throat. Tomorrow the doctor will tell me if I will live or die. More later. I gotta get some sleep. OHD is gone. Finally.