Vile Infirmity

Oh my gosh, I'm so sick I think I'm dying. I had two hours of sleep last night. I spent the rest of the night struggling to breathe from any orifice. I'm not picky - just let me have one nostril or a mouth. My asthma inhaler revs me up and contradicts the NyQuil which was slowing me down and all of that was probably compromised by the two teaspoons of Robitussin I desperately took at 4am when I thought I was going to choke to death in the kitchen. And now I am a freakish combination of jittery, drowsy, wheezy and anxious.

I'm anxious because I detest getting sick on a weekend because there's not a doctor option unless I go to Urgent Care, which I hate. I also hate that I don't know how I will feel tomorrow, the second Monday of school when I really need to be at work because we are starting all kinds of important stuff. Also, I am going to be out on Friday, which will be further complicated by my being out on Monday. Growl.

Overnight, I watched every single recorded event on my TiVo and read the book The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. (v. cute, by the way) I only left the couch to get more juice or to pee. Gus ate somewhere between 3 and 9 of my used Kleenexes. He was on high alert overnight for any falling cotton product and I was too medicated to care. Now he's sleeping it off with a stomach-full of my snot and germs. Nasty dog.

I am now completely exhausted from being away from my couch sanctuary for so long and must return to its welcoming sinky cushiony goodness. I'm going to curl up with Gus and wallow in self-pity for a while. Then I might eat some toast. I feel as though someone has taken a bristle brush, shoved it down my throat and roughed up my lungs, then finished it off with a good scrubbing of my nose. Wahhhh!

-SickPig