This Blows...

I've been feeling out of sorts since last Sunday when we were still in Texas. You know the drill: annoying scratch in the back of your throat, not quite stuffy nose but you know it's coming, a major head rush if you stand up too quickly. Then you graduate to a throat so swollen that you consider cutting a hole in your neck just so you can actually breathe, a nose so stuffy it feels like you successfully snorted a line of Peter Pan peanut butter (the chunky kind), breaking out into cold sweats and the oh so subtle yearning for someone to PLEASE JUST KILL YOU NOW. Or is that just me?

Anyway, then comes that day where you're almost back to your good ole' self. You think I will totally be fine tomorrow! You know the worst is over and that there's a light at the end of the mucus-encrusted tunnel. For me that day was yesterday. Today I am carrying around a paring knife in case my throat decides to close up completely, because it's almost there. I am worse. I don't understand! I feel very, very sorry for myself. And for Ethan. He hasn't gotten sick yet (despite his parents having The Fucking Plague), but today I am going to force him to watch Failure to Launch with me. I fear this might permanently damage our relationship: CLEARLY MY JUDGMENT CANNOT BE TRUSTED.

Today I am self-medicating. Supplies are as follows:

*1 pack: 94% fat-free SmartPop kettle corn

*1: 2-liter bottle of Diet Barq's rootbeer

*1: cheesy movie with the always delicious Matthew McConaughey

*1: cheesy movie with the squeaky yet lovable Sarah Jessica Parker

*1 pair: over-sized boxers, stolen from the husband

*1: old screen-print t-shirt that in no way matches the boxers

*2: unshaven legs

*1: bed head that is oh so sexily tousled

*LOTS OF: tissue

*1: 9-month old baby boy that JUST WON'T QUIT

(Am hoping that the movie will put him right to sleep.)