I first rolled over to see what time it was at 3:20am. My tongue had just unfurled from my mouth dryer than the Sahara desert and with probably more cacti on it. My nostrils were so stuffed I was unable to get a decent breath through them. Trying to get a molecule of air through my nose gave me a nose whistle and when I started trying to whistle out Jingle Bells, I got disgusted and gave up on any more sleep tonight. My pain meds had ran out on me sometime earlier, leaving me alone in the bed with a tooting Midget and a note telling me that it was great, but not great enough to stay all night. I raised the white flag and stumbled to the bathroom for water to moisten my poor mouth. I douched my nose (think it is technically called "irrigation," but I like to use the word "douche" as much as possible), brushed my teeth, took my meds, started my coffee (always the kiss of death for any hope of sleep after that), and here I sit: cross, sick, in an attack that just keeps dragging on... and on... and on... Princess was sick earlier this week. She lolled around on my couch, hogging it up and coughing all over me, no matter how many times I gently reminded her to "COVER YOUR DAMN MOUTH WHEN YOU COUGH!" So now I am under the weather and frankly, my dears, it is getting very old. Princess has a basketball tournament all weekend and I am not sure I will be able to make it. I really want to go; I love watching her games, but I'm not sure I will make it. The shrink sent me a very nice form letter to let me know I need to come back in for a follow-up visit because that is very important when switching meds. I don't really care to run back down to the ghettoooooo ("and his mama cries") but know I need to.
I think I had more to crab about, but Midget just puked and ate it before I could get paper towels. I think I'm gonna be sick...
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