Drugs and Chicken Pot Pie

This morning I awoke at 6 after 4 hours of fitful sleep. My right ear felt like it was going to burn a hole in my head. I could’t fall back to sleep on account of the pain. Since I had no one to whine to (plus, I had lost my voice completely so I merely squeaked), I proceded cry and call many of my C-ville friends and ask if they knew any doctors that would help me. My financial state is such that I cannot afford good health insurance and thus am only covered if I lose some limbs. Which doesn’t apply to the case this morning but it sure felt like it. Sucky. Couple that with the fact that I stupidly crashed myself on my BRAND NEW VANDERKITTEN hardtail yesterday (on the usual side, my left); and I was a wimpy kitty.
So I finally got a U.VA nurse on the phone who gave me some advice. In summation: drugs. Lots of them.
So I went for it. I haven’t taken this many drugs since college.
Michele Yeaton, hereafter known as Mother Theresa, brought me chicken soup and one of my favorite things in the world: her homemade chicken pot pie. See the photographic evidence of life’s finer things when you're half dead:

Today's weather was 100% glorious and I am pouting because I didn't get to ride. Wah!
I emailed my professors, begging for mercy tomorrow in terms of speaking in class. If they want me to whisper, I sure can…but who really wants to listen to a dying mouse?

Here is my class (red line designates me and my cute green loafers). Aren't we dashing? Lotsa blue shirts...

ps: some days i wonder why i retired from pro bike racing. this classifies as "normal behavior" for pros. oh dear.