rinue | liquid head

I have developed a head cold. My director has forcibly requested that I stay home where I will not infect the rest of the cast and crew; I have been further instructed to heavily medicate myself and not get out of bed, which is an overreaction since I'm not feeling that bad, but which seems like a sensible precaution given that I need to be in top form for filming next week, and that the sound guy will kill me if I'm still sneezing every few minutes. So instead of attending a directing class (in the highly theatrical British style which I don't care for) or viewing the rushes from my test shoot (which I've seen, sort of, because I prepped the print for projection), I am buried under several layers of blanket, surrounded by tissues, tea, and decongestants.

I've already done my taxes in an attempt to bore the bacteria to death, the flaw in this plan being that I enjoy accounting. Curses! Why must my sinuses be colonized? I feel like my face is melting. I'm not in any kind of pain - in fact, I feel pretty good so long as I'm indoors and reclined - but all this sitting in bed is boring.

I intend to have cauliflower for lunch so I can pretend I'm eating someone's brains, and to watch Zombie McCabe and Mrs. Miller by Zombie Robert Altman.