Just another (sick) day in the neighborhood.

Man oh man, it's been awhile since I strolled large chunks of Houston Street. I was back into the depths of 'hood today, this time picking up some candy for adults medication to combat whatever it is that I have. The most recent diagnosis - strep throat! What am I, 12? The doctor actually asked me half-seriously / half-creepily if I'd been hanging around kids recently. No Dateline, I haven't.

I strolled past this advertisement-disguised-as-a-mural near Houston and Avenue B. To read more about what it is and how the street artist Chico completed it, check out EVGrieve's detailed posts.

A bit of sun on an otherwise dreary day.

These sunflowers were spotted on 1st Street this afternoon. The doctor's office called me back in this afternoon to share the great news that I was still contagious. Awesome. Chalk it up as a 1.5 day work week.


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Subject: Me today.

Whenever an email with "me today" in the title vibrates through my Blackberry in the morning, it can only fall into one of four categories. Miss XYZ or Mr. ABC is running late, sick, taking a personal day, or playing hooky. Today it was my turn.

I'm rotating positions in bed as my current situation heats up to the point of unreasonableness. Feel the bed melting beneath me? Blow whistle, rotate, and repeat.

Partly to ease my mind and partly to pass the time that is a sick day, I visited a health clinic around the corner from my apartment. For $93 they told me exactly what I already knew - sleep, drink, and take Advil. Thankssssss.

I succumbed to my recent yet serious fried food cravings by stopping by Maria's Cafe on the corner of 3rd Street and Avenue C, deep in the heart of the East Village. I don't know if Maria was present, nor would I exactly call the yellow street stand a cafe (there are stools!), but the food satisfied my culinary bug. I picked up 4 HUGE chicken empanadas for $3.75 (the afternoon special) stumbled home wobbly and weary. And yes, still sick. Here's hoping tomorrow brings cooler temperatures my way.

Irony there for the taking.

Somewhere between Saturday ending and Sunday beginning this fellow was parked outside of neighborhood drinking hole Death & Company. Only he was alone, his life on wheels parked nearby, just in reach.

We've all been there. One drink too many. Maybe it was a food coma...turkey? A broken heart is the worst kind. Regardless of how you got to the point of lonely sleep, you got there. Some crash on the couch, others prefer roommates' beds. This man well, this man just wanted to crash. I don't blame him.

I woke up this morning not hungover but simply and utterly sick. Explaining it to my roommate as "my mind being one step behind my body" I quickly realized I was burning up. 104 degrees later and I was drinking water faster than a gerbil after racing around on its wheel. Consider today over. Here's hoping tomorrow brings on a miracle recovery, as the week ahead is brutal at work.