It started with a rasp.
It moved to a scratchy wheeze.
It developed into a bark.
And now I sound like I chain smoke three packs a day, watching Jerry Springer in my mu-mu in the trailer park with my pit bull Cletus, swigging Old Style.
I'm sure it's quite an attractive and pleasant sound for folks who call to yell at me about how the information they're required to give me is none of my damn business. A few of them have laughed at my scratching and squawking. Hey, whatever makes them a little bit happier.
A quick trip to the doc this morning revealed an upper respiratory infection with fever and netted some cough syrup -- but not the good stuff, I knew you'd wonder -- and a few suggested home remedies, including my personal favorite: the warm salt water gargle. Yummo, and a fun spectator sport, to boot.
I wanted her to tell me, "There's no way you can work. You must go home, take a hot steamy shower, crawl in bed and sleep for three days."
No such luck. My throat and lungs are raw, my head feels like it's been split open by a sledgehammer. And I've been subjected to every Chatty Cathy and unofficially deaf individual calling in this morning.
I want my mommy. I want a nap. I want codeine. In no particular order.
It moved to a scratchy wheeze.
It developed into a bark.
And now I sound like I chain smoke three packs a day, watching Jerry Springer in my mu-mu in the trailer park with my pit bull Cletus, swigging Old Style.
I'm sure it's quite an attractive and pleasant sound for folks who call to yell at me about how the information they're required to give me is none of my damn business. A few of them have laughed at my scratching and squawking. Hey, whatever makes them a little bit happier.
A quick trip to the doc this morning revealed an upper respiratory infection with fever and netted some cough syrup -- but not the good stuff, I knew you'd wonder -- and a few suggested home remedies, including my personal favorite: the warm salt water gargle. Yummo, and a fun spectator sport, to boot.
I wanted her to tell me, "There's no way you can work. You must go home, take a hot steamy shower, crawl in bed and sleep for three days."
No such luck. My throat and lungs are raw, my head feels like it's been split open by a sledgehammer. And I've been subjected to every Chatty Cathy and unofficially deaf individual calling in this morning.
I want my mommy. I want a nap. I want codeine. In no particular order.
Comments