Woe is Me

I am sick as a dog, except my dogs never seem sick.  In fact, they inhabit a blissful world of sofa naps, undeserved treats, and on-demand snuggle time.  So I feel worse than a dog- more like an angered badger in a room full of needles and tar pits.  What's my gripe?  Let me run down the list: sinus infection, clogged ears, post nasal drip, sore throat, unproductive cough, achy shoulder muscles, complete lack of taste and smell, sour disposition. . .can you blame me?

My mom will be so proud of me when she reads this- I took my sick butt to the doctor's this morning, instead of indulging in my typically hysterics when malaise sets in.  Good thing I decided to mature because I also discovered I've got a fever.  Since the start of school, I have been coughed and sprayed with kiddie germs maybe a billion times.  This was inevitable.  What I do need to prevent, though, is passing this crud onto Miles.  Sadly, I haven't been able to hold him very much.  I did last night in a pinch situation.  Miles needed some mommy squeezes to fall asleep.  Now that I know I'm armed, loaded, and ready to fire this bug on passersby, I have locked myself in the bedroom.  If I see my shadow, I stay in for another six weeks.

Oddly enough, my brain has found a silver lining to my current state of blah.  The lack of taste and smell could open some interesting doors.  Depending on the length of this side-effect, I could retry all those nasty foods I haven't tolerated before.  Now, I, too, can look cool slurping back cocktail shrimp and ordering extra bleu cheese on my iceberg salads.  However, what's really running through my mind is why do I come to these oddball conclusions?  Perhaps I am becoming faint from my fevah.

The doc loaded me up on super expensive pills, and an armful of samples.  Enough samples for me to start as second career as a pharmaceutical representative.  Looks like you are running low on Nasonex pens; just let me check my brief case.  And silly me, I was hoping one good, stiff whiskey sour would knock this bug out.  (But I'd hate to waste the whiskey on uninterested taste buds).