I be illin'

The Cavefish is in rough shape today.

I had dinner with Little Brother last night. Even though he lives on Long Island, I haven't seen him in ages. His excuse? Twin babies. Mine? Self-absorption.

We had a fatty dinner at Chat n' Chew and caught up. While I gobbled my grilled cheese, I realized that every person LB and I went to college with that I still like is either married or engaged. This is a very bad realization when one doesn't even have a proper crush and is at the height of her PMS for the month.

I had a lovely time, but truthfully, I went home feeling sorry for myself. I imagined myself with a terminal illness, dying alone save for a cat at the foot of my bed. I imagined myself in my 40's, attending second and third marriages sans date. Luckily, I IM'd Curly and she made me feel better, partly by telling me she nominated me for Best Canadian Blog but mostly for listening to me whine.

To add insult to injury, I woke up feeling positively wretched this morning. Either A) I have a low-grade flu or a high-grade cold or B) This is what nicotine withdrawal combined with severe PMS feels like. And yes, I'm pissed that there is not a cute boy on his way over here to feed me chicken soup and fetch me things.

On the upside, quitting smoking seems to be easier this time than it has the other 6271 times I've tried. And last night, when I was just depressed and not yet illin', I signed up for Match.com.