Mulligan

I've spent the last three days chugging generic Ny-Quil and making trumpet noises into enormous handfuls of tissue paper, which annoys me immensely because the whole point of quitting my low-paid go-nowhere job was to leave me free for more productive activities, not curled up on the couch watching documentary reruns on TV. (What's worse, in my feverish state the documentaries all started blending together, so I now have this vague idea Lake Erie was formed in the crater left by the explosion of Krakatoa after comets in the early solar system brought liquid water to the infant Earth.)

I just downed another shot of the 'Quil and am waiting for it to kick in so I can sleep, but it seems I've developed a tolerance for it. Tolerance is great when it's applied to other cultures and sexual proclivities and what have you, but it really sucks regarding drugs.

EDIT: To fix grammatical errors that should've been spectacularly obvious. Rather than myself, I blame the fever and the 'Quil.