12.11.02 - 6:20 p.m.

Sooooo...I am at home. Taking half a sick day for reasons of actual sickness. I know. It's so out of character, but when I found myself unable to walk to the fax machine and meet its beepy demands, I knew it had to be done.

Either I've worn out my magic force field that kept me safe from the two earlier office cold epidemics or I just stressed out my body so much this past week and a half that it's crying uncle. Probably a little of both. I think my body is not strong enough for my brain.

And it started out as such a good morning too, despite the general lethargy and what I thought was my normal sinus allergy wheeziness. I rediscovered the beauty that is VH1 Classic (Channel 136 for those of you in the northern NJ area with Time Warner digital cable) and was able to watch not one, not two, but THREE whole fabulous Eighties videos whilst I ate my Grape-Nuts.

And wow, did the Indigo Girls ever rock those mullets back in 1989. The video for "Closer to Fine" was playing when I switched to the channel, and I was simultaneously transported to my freshman year of college (Cyndi's copy of 1200 Curfews got a LOT of play our first semester) and mesmerized by their stubborn anti-fashion.

Next up was "We Got the Beat," and scarily enough, Belinda Carlisle's ensemble seemed relatively current. Black pumps, ruffled floofy skirt like my BCBG number and an embroidered blouse. The other Go-Gos, sadly, did not age as well. They can join the Indigo Girls at the back of the line.

But the crowning glory of the morning had to be watching "Video Killed the Radio Star." The entire thing, which I'm ashamed to say I'd never seen till now. What Eighties panache! What keyboards! What strange Elton John glasses! And what a concept: cardboard radios and a silver Lycra-ed space slut in a tube!

Then some Rick Springfield video came on, knocking me out of my reverie. Le sigh. I don't really have a soft spot in my heart for old Ricky like I would, say, for some Toto or Tommy Tutone.

I am now so worn out from discussing my beautiful rendezvous with VH1 Classic that I have no energy to discuss the asinine fact that the man who hit MY car in my own DRIVEWAY when I was INSIDE my HOUSE had the GALL to ask ME for money. Really. I know. I'm beyond indignant.

But my invalid blanket and my couch and my Casey's Famous Soup are calling me so bitter venting will have to wait for another day.