Dude. Four days down with this crap. The doc said bronchitis, but honestly? While I'm terribly prone to lung things, I think this was just a bad flu. The lungs have cleared somewhat, which they wouldn't have done with the big B, and the head has stuffed up more. Stupid fever's been the worst part, since fever makes me cry when someone drops a spoon. Lala's been a saint.
Rachael: Will you put the toilet paper in the bathroom?
Lala: Yes, but can it wait until I unpack your groceries in the kitchen? [The groceries she lovingly and kindly brought to her sick girl.]
Rachael: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! Hic. Sniff. WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH.
She's a good sport, she is. Then she made terrific pasta and didn't mind when I cried into it. I hate being sick.
Also: Sudafed makes me insane. Just so you know. I was up all night on a super-bad ephedrine trip, worried about absolutely everything. Frantic. Miserable. It's a good thing I'm not a big worrier, because it turns out that a) I'm good at it (when on drugs) and b) it blows. Sudafed is worth taking if you're on your second box of kleenex in five waking hours, but that's about it for me. I'm back down to a box of tissues a day today, and that's good enough for me. No Sudafed, no Dayquil, no dreams when I finally fall asleep that I'm a waitress at Denny's and have to serve beer to all the boys I broke up with while in college.
Enough. I'm tired of typing, and I'm behind in email, so forgive me. I have to go watch more old episodes of the Gilmore Girls now. That's better than Sudafed. They do all the frenetic fretting for me.
Miss Idaho, looking for love.
PS - My sister Christy just called, and she's bringing me an enchilada for dinner! Yay! Life can go on! I'm about vanilla-wafered out.