I Don't Need Help, But I Occasionally Need To Not Be Atlas

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Hit the courthouse in the morning for Big Eric. Well, after a couple false starts where I had to run back to the house and vomit, anyway. Stupid real food. Was supposed to mail the subpoena, then submit the proof of service form stating I had hand delivered it. Even though the other organization said it was okay, I didn't feel comfortable doing what the form explicitly said not to. I still have my determination of moral character coming up.

Also thought about hitting the gym, but was really starting to not feel so hot. I mean literally. I had the heater blasting in my car, and I was breaking out in cold sweats. Got home and passed out. Woke up much later, soaking wet, to the smell of already stale sweat. Marty was calling. No can do. Had missed a bunch of calls from Big Eric, many texts from both him and Kenric. Big Eric was having an emergency, and Kenric wanted to borrow money, but he could totally pay me back in like, under a month. Ish. Probably. Totally.

I don't know Kenric all that well, and I have to wonder how it is that people who don't know me very well still think of me like a bank. A jobless bank. A sick, jobless bank. I would think it was unfair of me to be upset about the sick part, since it was so recent, but he didn't ask for the money until after I said I had been sick all day.

Passed out for longer. Tim called, distraught that I was sick, but I'm not sure why. I also got several offers from various tricks to take care of me. That's sweet, but even when I have a migraine, I fix my own damn bed, and this wasn't quite migraine bad.