I woke up today with a pounding, spinning head and a sick stomach worthy of the morning after a night of binge drinking. Strange, since I didn't drink anything yesterday. Needless to say I called in sick.
I slept 'til ten, and was a bet better when I got up. Some soup and a bit of PlayStation 2 made me that much better, and while I certainly wasn't going to work I couldn't just lay there like a slug.
[This is a trait I picked up from Sonya. At some point of our first year as a married couple Sonya got sick and stayed home. When I came in that afternoon the house was immaculate and she half-comatose on the couch, more sick and tired than she had been when I left.
"Why'd you clean?" I asked.
"Because I stayed at home," she muttered into the pillow.
"But you're sick," I argued, "that means you get to lie there and do nothing!"
"Unnnngguhh..." she responded tartly.]
So I washed some towels, since the pile in the bathroom was alarmingly tall. And I called some hotels in New York for a possible summer vacation. For shits and giggles I called the W Union Square and asked about the nicest thing they had.
"It's a suite with separate living room and full-sized bath, and with a view of either the city or the park, your preference," the guy at the reservations desk told me.
And how much was that?
"Six ninety-nine, plus tax," I was informed.
I went ahead and booked one of each view, just in case I changed my mind mid-stay.