When the world gets too heavy
Put it on my back, I'll be your levy
You are taking me apart
Like bad glue on a get-well card

L

"Dreamt is possibly the strangest word in the English language," writes Moxie. "Yes, there's limn and cathexis and ersatz, but one could conceivable say dreamt in normal conversation. It's weird because it ends in -mt. How many words, let alone verbs, do that?" Moxie stares up at the ceiling, trying to remember. The effort is futile. She gives up and continues pontificating. "Dreamt. Dreamt. Dreamt. If you repeat it enough times, it eventually becomes meaningless, which is called jamais vu. The opposite of deja vu, which means already seen in French, jamais vu means never seen. Anyways," continues Moxie, "my point is...my point is..." She trails off, looking back up at the ceiling in hopes her point is written up there. The ceiling, the light brown of a cafe au lait, has a distinct lack of words on it. It is doubtful she had a point in the first place, but makes a desperate attempt at one. "My point is that you should say dreamt instead of dreamed. Something like that."

Ah. That's better. Not really. So where was I?

Oh that's right.
Things that make me overly excited when I'm sick and my brain is foggy:
A. Sweats and the fact that they don't require belts
B. Huge bowls of salad, all to myself
C. Blankets. Lots and lots of blankets.
D. On Demand
E. The Internet
F. Pocket Frogs
G. Sleep

Stay healthy, my germ-susceptible friends.
-L