It was so nice to get out today. I didn't leave my building yesterday trying to get over my cold. I didn't work out because my nose was running all over the place, and I knew for sure that snot would be all over my face.

Today the sun is shining. It's cold, but not real cold, and in my new warm coat walking outside is comfortable. I got to go out at lunchtime to get stamps and my salad. So nice.

I don't think I have appreciated a normal day in so long. I mean, I appreciate the days where I have nothing to do but rest, or have fun things planned. But this is just a normal day. I will work all day. I will come home, work out (I can't wait...it's been almost a week and I'm starting to feel sluggish), study, and work on some other stuff. Nothing big. But I guess it's nice because it's a normal day.

And when you're sick, you want normal days. It sucks when you want to study, which you think you can because it doesn't involve much physical exertion, but you can't because reading makes your head hurt. There goes studying, reading a novel, and reading a magazine right out the window. I couldn't get through more than 2 pages of "Return of the King" without wanting to close my eyes. Concentration is bad too. Friday night when Tim was over I was in the mood to watch nothing, even movies I liked. It was weird.

I wasn't really sick. Only a little cold. But it's amazing how a little cold can make easy things annoying and tough, and make you really crabby. So even though I feel better physically today, I feel so much better psychologically today.

The best part about yesterday was watching "Bend It Like Beckham". If you haven't seen it, you must. Very good. I want to watch it again and again. I loved the music, and I even thought the Mel C and Victoria Beckham songs weren't horrible.

Speaking of which, why did I watch Spice Girls Behind the Music on Sunday? I also watched Brittney Spears. Why? See what I mean about being physically sick and feeling just as bad psychologically? Thank goodness my cold was in my head, because had it been a chest cold there would have been no excuse.

Jersey

I decided to wear my New York Islanders Pierre Turgeon jersey today.

I used to wear hockey jerseys all the time. Now, not so much. So I put on my blue and orange jersey, and some orange lipstick to match.

I looked at the patch on my right shoulder. It was the patch celebrating the centennial of the Stanley Cup. 1893 - 1993. I have had this jersey for 10 years. 10 years. I have probably had Turgeon's autograph on the back of it for 9 years.

I started thinking about that. 10 years. That seems like such a long time, but it doesn't feel like that long ago.

Bad Dream

I had the worst dream last night.

In my dream, Tim and I killed a woman. I don't know who she was. Well, in the dream I did, but she's not someone I know in my real life. We didn't seek out to kill her. Something happened and we ended up killing her. So it would have been a second degree murder or manslaughter sort of thing. I don't remember which one of us actually did the deed. She didn't bleed, though. There was no blood. So she must have been strangled or something. She was in my apartment. We wrapped the body in plastic and duct tape, then wrapped that in a sheet. We stuffed the body in my hall closet, in a little cubby hole sort of thing that reminded me of a dumb waiter, where there's a little door that you open and put something in. Only it was just another space, not an actual dumb waiter. I should also say that this is one of the few dreams I have had where my home was my actual real life home. My apartment was laid out correctly. The closet was in the same place. The only difference was that I don't have that cubby hole thing in the closet. It's just the closet.

The next part of the dream I remember was waking up. Yes, I had been sleeping in my dream. I was really disoriented and felt like I had slept for 2 days (maybe I did). I wondered if the killing had been a dream (this is becoming very "Waking Life" like). There was no rancid smell in my apartment. I walked over to the closet and opened the door of the cubby hole, and sure enough, there was the body.

That is when it really hit me, and I felt the worst feeling I had ever felt in my life. Tons of thoughts were running through my head at a time: Oh my gosh I killed someone...I'm going to jail...no, where can I dump the body...I took someone's life...there's no way I can deal with a body this size without someone seeing...I took someone's life...maybe I can dismember the body...someone is dead because of me...I will get caught because it's my sheet and I'm sure my hair and everything is all over it...what am I thinking I have to turn myself in...I don't want to go to jail...oh my gosh I actually took someone's life...

It was about this time that I realized, wait a minute, I'm in a dream. I don't have to deal with any of this crap. I literally thought that in my dream. Then I woke up. I actually hurt when I woke up. My body was aching. It was awful.