Update: To my infinite surprise I do not have the black plague, tuberculosis, small pox, the great pox, or the clap. I merely have a sinus infection gone awry. Funny how something so simple can be so miserable. Almost anticlimactic. And the doctor strong armed me into promising to get a flu shot every year from now on, thus ruining my plans to die young as a martyr. Will now have to start a new plan for canonization.
I had to do it. It was horrible. It wore me down until I had to give in. After 5 days of being sick I had to call the doctor. Oh the shame! How it burns! I HATE HATE HATE doctors and hospitals and yucky meds that have to be an ungodly strength because of the immunosuppressant drugs I'm on that leave a terrible taste in my mouth and make me pray to the patron saint of yeast infection medicines (sorry, any boys out there reading this, but as a woman it is just a fact of life). I have been practicing my cough for 5 long days with no improvement (who said practice makes perfect? They need to wrap my diseased pillowcase around their head). My chest feels tight and my back and chest hurt from coughing. My house is about to fall down around us because everybody is under the weather and even if the others were not they wouldn't clean a darn thing, being not humans but more akin to swine. Oh, the cat boxes that are releasing their putrid odors with as much gusto as is possible for them, so that when you first walk into the house you can't miss that we have 4 cats whose poo poo places have not yet been cleaned this week. My trash that makes me think of the Shel Siverstein poem about Sylvia Stout Would Not Take The Garbage Out, but to make it fit better it would have to be something like, Blindbeard's Stout Roommates Won't Take The Heaping, Overflowing, Rancid Garbage Out (They Might Burn A Calorie If They Did). The groceries that are running low, not that any of us have much of an appetite, but the things we do want to eat, such as crackers, juice, bullion cubes, etcetera, are becoming a hot commodity. Laundry stacked up so high in the bathroom it is embarrassing me to even look at it. The bloomers on top of towels on top of brassieres on top of rotten sick clothes... The dishes that long since grew a beautiful, thick, furry, green, slimy mold (okay, maybe I am exaggerating there -- maybe -- I do run the dishwasher almost everyday). The dust that is so thick the pets are writing, "Start free feeding me, bitches!" in it. I need to return books to the library, get some new books, get gas in my car, wash my car, get some things needed around the house like mouthwash (somebody has been using mine! Who would be that dumb?!) and hand soap. We are in a sad, dirty, pigpen state here, but I think my roommates are secretly happy to have a break from my fishwife carping. I am usually standing over them with a cattle prod in hand to whip them into shape, so this is a nice break for them. Little do they know that when I am back in action, well, woe to them! They may have the upper hand now, but soon, after ridiculous amounts of antibiotics (and some diflucan to keep the bread sticks at bay (sorry, bad yeast infection joke) ) they will be forced to live like humanoids again. Gotta go practice my cough to impress my doctor now. Tootles.
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