Icky Sicky Ick

I feel like Im camping out in the house. And I’m sick.

Being sick sucks. But you know what? The flavor and texture of Zicam has greatly improved! So there’s a nice little surprise. Thank you Zicam...I almost didn’t buy you because of our previous experience together. Other than, that, there have been no pleasant surprises to feeling like crud.

For instance, in the doc’s office, there was this sign that said “limit 2 visitors per patient.” I didn’t have any. No one came to see me while I was there. So posting that there was kind of like rubbing it in my face. Yep I was alone. For quite a while. I thought it might be kind of a fun place when I saw that the paper covering the exam table was Cat in the Hat. But as I sat down right on top of Thing 1 and Thing 2, I noticed there really wasn’t anything special about it. Thing 1 and Thing 2 were just there in a feeble attempt to comfort me after pointing out that I have no friends.

I did get a nice hip shot though. I remember how I used to tighten up and cry when I was little. Now I try to take it like a big girl. I still hate them. Not because I don’t like needles...I’m fine with giving blood or IV’s. I just hate the burn of antibiotic. So in addition to the shot I am taking two other antibiotics which they told me they would call in for me.

As I walked into Walgreens I realized that there is no time that I feel uglier than when I am sick. I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I don’t bother to fix my hair or put on makeup. I guess it’s kind of like, if I’m going to feel bad, the rest of the world is going to have to suffer right along by seeing me this way. Last night I went out to my Mom’s and my sis kind of studied my face for a second. “You look different,” she says, as if she’s not sure if it was intentional or not. “It’s cause I don’t feel good. Plus with all the remodeling all my mirrors are covered up.” “Oh,” she says. “Well, don’t go look in one of ours.” I guess she would have been really grossed out if I had shown her the fur on my tongue.

So now I'm waiting for my husband to bring me lunch. And if he's really good, he'll bring me a prize. Because he knows the house rules: You get a shot--you get a prize. I can't wait!