Sunday with the flu

I may not have the flu, but watching back-to-back episodes of Hoarders and Dancing with the Stars is a sure-fire way to depress myself and quite possibly my immune system.

Between the stupefaction of people living amidst garbage, to cheesiness of D-listers and has-beens doing the foxtrot, I've vegetated myself into a blue funk.

Thank god for good music to perk me up.

Closed my door, forgot my key, missed my bus in the pouring rain
It's been the usual sunday with a flu
And I just can't get over you

Burnt my toast and lost your number, cut my finger, spilled my beer
It's been the usual sunday with a flu
And I just can't get over you

I put your stockings in my purple boots
What if I don't get over you?

Had a chat and left my hat, ate my dog and walked my cat
It's been the usual sunday with a flu
And I just can't get over you

I put your stockings in my purple boots
What if I don't get over you?