Well, the sore throat is mostly gone, but my nose is still running and I have a dry hacking cough that would alarm Doc Holliday.
I also have that nasty aftertaste that throat lozenges always leave. I've brushed my teeth a half-dozen times today.
I had the idea it would be cool if the white and green Taras
would manifest themselves and sit by my bed whilst I suffered, just to keep me company. Guys always turn into whiny little boys when they're sick, or so I'm told. I need a mom, and I would nominate them. (My real mom... well, good lord. I'd rather just die alone on an outcropping of rock, thank you, and that would have been her preference for me as well.)
Blogblah's comment in the preceding post is spot on; however I have considerable emotional and intellectual equity invested in self-pity this week and I don't want to waste any of it.
Back to bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment