Well, after two nights of sweating out toxins, my fever is gone. Now I’m only congested. I haven’t left Matt’s apartment since Sunday evening. Last night, between Matt’s coughing and my sniffling it was a cacophony of illness. At least we’re both getting better.

Yesterday I began reading “Wicked,” and last night, as I drifted in and out of sleep, visions of Oz wandered through my head. At some points I even dreamed that I was reading.

This isn’t the most exciting way to spend a vacation from work, but at least I don’t have to be anywhere. And hopefully I’ll be in good enough shape for my birthday gathering tomorrow night. (I’m having people meet up at Posh tomorrow at 6:30 for a happy hour — anyone’s welcome to come.)

Sniffle sniffle cough cough. Over and out.

Well, it’s my birthday and I’ve got a temperature of 100.6. (About 20 minutes ago it was 101.2.) I feel all achy and tired and chilly. Matt and I were going to go out for birthday dinner with my parents tonight, but instead we’re putting it off.

Bleah.

This isn’t my worst birthday, though. My worst birthday was my 17th, when my family was on vacation in Thailand — Phuket, actually, which was ravaged by tsunamis yesterday. I was in a swimming pool and as I was getting out, I somehow gouged out a chunk of skin from my left big toe. We went back up to our hotel room and it bled and bled and bled before finally stopping. I’ve got a scar on my left big toe to this day.

And at least I’m not in Phuket now. I can’t imagine what it must be like in southeast Asia right now.

Anyway — I’ll live to fight another day…

Happy Birthday to Me.

I’m getting congested and my throat’s a little scratchy. I must have caught the cold Matt’s had for the last few days. And it’s gloomy and cloudy and cold out, and it was flurrying earlier.

My holiday’s been nice so far. On Christmas Eve, I went over to Mike’s mom’s place for a Benedetto Christmas Eve buffet, while Matt stayed home and nursed his cold. (Don’t worry, I did lots of nursing before I left.) All of Mike’s friends at the party — me, Russ, Steve, Marc, and Jenn — were Jewish, and we all ate ham that night.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, Matt and I saw “Phantom of the Opera, the movie. I didn’t dislike it as much as I’d expected to, but only because I’d expected to hate it. I did think Patrick Wilson and Emmy Rossum were miscast, though. I hadn’t heard the music in years, and there were some songs I’d completely forgotten until I heard them again in the movie. As much as I dislike Andrew Lloyd Weber’s music, “Phantom” does have some wonderful melodies in it.

After the show, we had Chinese food — the traditional Jewish Christmas dinner.

We also watched The Christmas Special Christmas Special yesterday on Bravo, a terrific examination of how Christmas on TV has influenced popular culture over the years. And in the evening, we watched “The Sound of Music” on ABC. I hate to say this, but I’d never seen it before. I have the Broadway cast album, and so many of the songs are embedded in our culture, but I’d never seen the actual show.

I also looked up the origin of Santa Claus yesterday.

At night, I went to the Phoenix to meet up with Andy, Steve, and Marc, all fellow Jews (while Matt continued to rest). Between last night, Christmas Eve, and Thursday night, the Jew Crew seems to be reconstituting itself. (Ask Andy, one of the members of the original Jew Crew, for an explanation.) It’s so strange — this is something that just seems to have popped up in the last week or so, possibly aided by the arrival of Christmas.

And now I’m trying to decide what I want from my parents for my birthday. I keep thinking I want an iPod, but Matt thinks I should get an iPod mini, and I’m wondering if I even need an iPod at all. Matt says I could use his, because he never uses it anymore, but there’s something about having one of my own. Anyway, this is a major dilemma for me for some reason, but I guess it’s not a bad sort of dilemma to have.

Anyway, tomorrow’s the big day.

Hooray… I love this time of year.