I had a code. My node id running and my throat id sore, and I think I had a feder. Sniff, sniff, sneede, sneede, cough, cough. Last weekend, spent in very close quarters in cars and hotel rooms, J was fighting a mother of a cold. Because Beve elected to spend the night in his dad's hotel room, E and I slept right beside J. And guess what? She's sniffing and sneezing and clogged up as well.
Man, I really hate being sick. Whine, whine, whine. Having just buried--er, consigned to a sacred wall--the remains of a woman for whom a simple cold could land her in the hospital, I should be hesitant to complain. But I am who I am, and colds can annoy me, seriously annoy me. I'm a weeny about them (and I believe that is a real word--weeny). They start with a whimper, a graininess in the eyes or a scratch in the throat, at their apex they bang loudly, and end with a seemingly never ending flow of...well, you know, used tissue.
So I'm sitting by the fire in the living room this morning, thankful that at least the 100+ degree fever I was running yesterday seems to have abated a little, remembering the good old days--say, Monday--when I could breathe through my nose. So until further notice--and by that I mean the end of this blasted thing--I'll go back to sipping my tea and NOT writing this or anything else. I'm at least smart enough to know that my brain is too clogged with snot hold a thought, let alone see God at the intersections.
By the way, Beve's parents slapped down a deposit for a Retirement/Assisted Living apartment here Wednesday and are moving north for the duration. That mere ten minutes away versus 3 1/2 hours will be a luxury to all of us.