Between Monday night, when I was making delightful plans, and Tuesday morning when I woke up, I was visited by the illness fairy. She left me a sore throat and an enchanted fever.

Seriously, I thought I’d be okay once I got to work, but my eyesockets hurt and my cheeks were burning so I went home to try to sleep it off before going to a Europop concert. Because I’m crazy.

Seriously: we were going with friends, so we made plans to meet them at the club early, just after doors, which were supposed to be at eight PM. Imagine our surprise when we were still standing outside the Mod Club at nine PM. Seriously, Mod Club, what’s the deal? By the time Annie hit the stage (around 11:30), my generic Tylenol medication was wearing off and I could actually feel my fever rising.

Annie’s set was ridiculously short — possibly shorter than the openers, the Postal Service-esque Russian Futurists — but pretty charming, even though she kept doing the running man and saying “woo!”

Anyway, I took Wednesday off work and spent the day on the couch. I watched a) last week’s Veronica Mars, b) at least three hours of Simpsons, c) new Top Model (Gina drives me nuts and is funny-looking, but I would have freaked out too if someone made me wear a giant cockroach on my chest), d) a bunch of Food Television, and e) Belle de jour. Which seriously? I liked. But? What was up with Catherine Deneuve’s deer-in-the-headlights face? I assume she has other faces, as I have seen her make them in other films, but they could have given her at least a little bit of agency.

Now I’m drinking my NeoCitron (which I realize is misspelled, but I say it in a robot voice, which I promise is adorable) and soon I will fall to sleep.