I wish the title of this post reflected its modern-day definition, but it definitely does not. After feeling dead for a day, with a mysterious sickness, sleeping for 23 hours, and doing everything in my power to not get sick on the subway, I am slowly coming back to life. Getting sick always has the best timing ever. When I have much to do in life (laundry), work (Matsumoto Studio), and prepping with just one  week left before leaving New York for the holidays, I just had to also get sick. But whatever, it’s nothing that sleep, Gatorade, and club soda can’t heal.