Honey, it ain't (cough, hack, wheeze) Target Tuesday

It's supposed to be anti-Target fashion-y day here, but I feel a bit like a hypocrite since I just got back from a run to...sigh...Target.  I really really really needed cold medicine and tissues.  I COULD have also picked up a Snuggie (for both myself AND Ted), but I retained my dignity and refrained.

It's been an all-day-long cold medicine high.  You know when you're talking and you know you're saying something and you can hear yourself saying something but your brain isn't quite registering what it is saying?  That has been me.  All day.

And to make things fun and interesting, I went to work.

I could hear my voice...knew I was speaking...but I have NO idea what I said today.

I imagine it went something like this...

Boss: Were you able to finish up the report for finance this morning?
Me: Did you know that it is impossible to lick your own elbow?
Boss: ...
Me: ((trying to lick elbow))


I may also have ordered an Alexander Wang bag, a Roomba, a plasma screen TV, and crate of poofdrops (the name is - I swear - much funnier after a few shots of Nyquil).

And if I'm starting to remember, it must be time for more cold medicine.