I wasn't going to write this post because it seems like all I'm doing lately is complaining. But I really should take advantage of the muse when she strikes (even if she's stricken me with multiple ailments, and possibly also a large blunt object).

First, something up-tempo: I am going to see the Spice Girls in Vegas this December! Awww, yeah, whose house? RUN'S HOUSE! I was awakened this morning by a text message from my friend Tom in Chicago saying he got a code, and was I in? OF COURSE. As Kristi said, "nothing says Christmas like the Spice Girls in Vegas." This is how it is: at 9:32 am you are only vaguely aware that the Spice Girls are reuniting, perhaps for only one show in London, like Led Zeppelin, and at 9:37 am you have an entire weekend itinerary of buffets and shopping.

Alright. Now onto a slow number: I may not see this show if I DIE beforehand. While doing the final apartment load-out on Sunday, I had allergies so bad that I could not fall asleep, because I would start breathing through my nose, at which point terrible burning and shockingly loud, barking sneezes would occur. THEN my thumb is still hurting in that place where I tore my tendon 20 years ago (OH GOD OLDSAUCE), except now the pain is sort of radiating outward, across the hand and up to my elbow. And it is a vibrating, thrummy pain. It's more of a challenge to breathe than it should be. Additionally, everything else aches generally, like when you have the flu, except I don't have the flu. And I am starving, but do not want to eat anything. And my legs and feet feel sort of numb and weak. And I have a pimple on my leg.

LEG PIMPLE.

So what I'm saying is, all my aerobic activity in my toxic mold apartment has given me rapid onset arthritis, asthma and muscular dystrophy. And possibly lupus. So I might not make it to Vegas.