When I say it rained me to the couch, I mean it rained so much that I had to stay on the couch all weekend, which is uncharacteristic of me. The rain just rained me right down, and I liked it. In my defense, I was sickly. Still am. Just the kind of sick where you really feel quite unwell, but not unwell enough to not live your life. Which is the worst sometimes, because you still have to go to work and do your obligations, but you feel just on the cusp of sick enough to make yourself slightly unhappy that you’re doing anything but being on the couch. Do you get me?
Here are some scenes from my couch and my inside days:
I love you more than I love Bruce Springsteen,