New plan: find a bear family to adopt me and hibernate with them until I can breathe like a normal person again. This cold or whatever the crap it is will not go away. It came on Martin Luther King Day and despite all the Dayquil and Nyquil and cough drops I've thrown at it, I am still coughing up junk like it's my job. And I am getting seriously annoyed. I want to be 100% better at once, immediately, now. Or you know, tomorrow. I'd take that too. Definitely by the weekend.
Bill gave me this medical book from like 1978 and showed me the chapter on respiratory problems. He came back into my office later and said, "Well, did you figure out what's wrong." I replied, "According to this book, I either have a tumor or tuberculosis." He said "I'll call Anthony Funeral Home" and we laughed.
Later he made me go to his ear, nose & throat doctor who gave me a prescription for antibiotics that cost $45. For that price they better be made of magic.
I wish I was full of muffins instead of mucus. On the upside, I am getting really good at spitting. It's very classy.
Lyric of the moment: "Life sometimes seems to get the best of you, like everything just brings you down. Just when you think there's nothing you can do, a friendly face will bring you around. And you'll feel better..."
The best parts of this kind of sickness are the giant brown gobs that you can cough up during your morning shower. It's like spitting out a slimy mouse and watching it scurry toward then down the drain.
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