Well, let's see. Where were we? Yesterday I had a migraine and slept 12 hours. Today, I am just coughing. Guess we'll take it. But, I am going to enjoy my weekend, sick or not. Tomorrow, I am going to Houston to check out the Diane Arbus photography exhibit and a couple of gallery openings. I am really excited.

I have also come to the conclusion that I am an awful friend. Two of my friends called me today and left messages on my voicemail. I didn't feel up to doing anything tonight because of my summer cold, but instead of having to call and tell anyone no, I just didn't call. I know it's horrible. I know I should behave better than that. It's just that I always feel so guilty telling people no. And it never fails that when one friend calls with plans, two more will call in the subsequent ten minutes. One weekend, no phone calls. The next, I have five different offers. That's when I shut down. No phone calls returned. My voicemail wasn't working, I claim. My phone died, and I couldn't find my charger. Awful, horrible - yes, these are the adjectives to describe my behavior. I just can't help it.

I think part of the problem is that I have a couple friends who never seem to care. You're sick? Ah well, let's talk for an hour even though you are coughing. You're eating? I'll keep you company.

To those friends, I say: Leave me alone. Be courteous. Help end my aversion to the telephone by not calling me. I have good-telephone friends; I have horrific telephone friends. The good ones know better. They keep me on the line for a couple minutes before ending saying, "I don't want to keep you," or "I know you hate being on the phone for a long time." To those friends, thank you.

You will never know how appreciated you are.

Do I bitch too much? I don't want to be a soapbox blogger, a bitchy blogger, who airs her grievances on the internet.

So I will end with a nice, quaint, endearing story. My mother knew I was sick so she made homemade vegetable soup (my favorite). My dad rented my favorite childhood video North Avenue Irregulars. We ate and watched TV, and they both kissed me and sent me back to my apartment with food for the weekend.

See - I tried sweet. Boring. (Although sincere thanks to mom and dad). I promise to be wiser, more intelligent sounding, even thought-provoking tomorrow. The art galleries will do my talking.

Sweet dreams, everyone.