Soup and Moving

This week is one of those weeks where it would have come in handy to have a boyfriend. On top of packing, packing, packing and more packing, I have been sick. You know, the sort of sick where you feel as though your head is floating about 20 feet above your body and there is sneezing and coughing and a general feeling of, "please just let me go to sleep or I swear to Jeebus I will cut you." And you just want some effing chicken noodle soup.
I want to sleep, internet, and I want some effing chicken noodle soup. I don't want to pack things or clean things, or carry boxes stuffed with things. If I had a boyfriend, internet, he would take pity on little ole me and try and help me pack and bring me soup to soothe my throat...and it might even be in a bread bowl and then he would know that when I got better, he would be generously rewarded. Unfortunately for me, none of this will happen today (and I am not going to go off on a tangent here and tell you how these are all things that I have done for Spliff in the past, without reward  out of the goodness of my heart and that she could do the same for me. I am just not going to do that, internet), and I will be at one of my two current apartments, packing this or unpacking that, hoping that some lovely stranger will knock on the door with some piping hot chicken noodle soup. (If you are a stranger, and the soup is in a bread bowl, said reward does not apply, however.)
I probably wouldn't eat soup a stranger gave me though. But I would totally appreciate the gesture.
The moral of the story, internet? Bring soup to sick people. They will love you forever. But they will love you more if you bring soup and then help them move. Just sayin'.

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