My cough/sore throat developed into a full blown cold. I spent the weekend alternately in bed or on the sofa reading memoirs about women with bizarre medical problems. It should have made me feel better, I mean, at least my colon didn't have to be STAPLED TO MY VERTEBRAE TO KEEP IT FROM FALLING OUT, but let's face it, when you are sniffling and sneezing and coughing and achey, there is very little that can make you feel better. I must say that the voodoo lounge certainly tried to make me feel better. PT got me THREE KINDS of Juicy Juice (100% juice!) and willingly got up during our viewing of Shaun of the Dead to get me popsicles, and the kitties managed to stop biffing each other and yowling and and snuggle up with me in bed.
Still, I kept waking up last night coughing and freaking myself out in a hazy, sickly delirium. LIke one time I was convinced that Ninja, peacefully snoozing by my feet was going to suffocate under all the blankets and I was going to wake up with a dead kitty in my bed and how the hell would I explain that to Gargamel who is in Providence for the week????? *pant pant* (note: Ninja did not suffocate himself, and when I hauled him up into the air, he yawned and looked slightly annoyed at me, and went back to sleep)
The bright side to all of this is that at least this sickness is understandable. I have a cold. Simple. Not, like, I am irritable and irrational and can't stop sobbing and I don't know why. It's sort of a relief to have a something to blame (a virus!) instead of hating myself for being such a pain in the ass.
Yay! Virus!
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