It’s a bad day to reconnect with friends old and new on this bog, er, blog. Don’t misunderstand. It’s not a bad day everywhere or for everyone. I just have a cold the size and quality of which is called in my family the Dread Gombu. Coughing spells that leave one weak and sore-sided. And expectorants, even with cough suppressants, just make it worse, causing the wheeze and gurgle once commonly associated with galloping consumption. No fever. No stuffy nose. Just the cough. I should be grateful, I know. It could be worse. I don’t want to hear about it. Actually, I can’t hear about it. I’m too busy coughing. And recovering from coughing. And getting ready to cough. AArrgh! (ouch). This is what a case of the surlies sounds like, and I’ve got it bad. Somebody send me whiskey and lemon! just kidding. I’ll get over myself. I really will. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. I’ll let you know.
blog post – Of a Sunday, let’s just say a little of this goes a long way. Still coughing. Still waiting to get better. Still bummed.
Monday — a little better but now my voice is in the basement doing frog imitations. I’m a joy to behold.
Ok – It’s Tuesday. I’m noticeably better, at least to me. Sarah’s here and said i sound terrible. Probably, but she missed three days of godawful, and so did you. Be glad. Be very glad. I predict that tomorrow I’ll be on the mend no matter what. My favorite acupuncturist is making a house call, and soon I’ll be whizzing around and singing like Mary Poppins. Well, not — I mean — it’s a figure of speech, eck-tually. Stay tuned. I’ll be giving a post-poke report soon.