Wow! Okay, who knew that the flu would knock you on your hiney like that? Various members of my family and I have spent the better part of the last week in the bed sleeping through misery! Of course, we really don’t know if it was the flu or not, because we were too sick to go to the doctor. You know, they really ought to come up with a better way to receive medical care than having to spend an hour getting dressed and then waiting two hours or more at a clinic with other people who are hacking up a lung in your direction, mixing their toxic germs with your semi-toxic ones. Honestly, it’s enough to make a girl with the flu (or some other equally debilitating illness) just stay in bed. Which is what we did.
We watched 1286 hours of HGTV, 7824 hours of The Wiggles, and read 12,853 facebook status updates. We ate chicken soup and drank hot tea. We took Nyquil and other varieties of cold medicine until we were in a drunken stupor. And now we are on the road to recovery. We got brave enough to go to Publix yesterday for more medicine, and I felt 87 years old. I could barely walk in from the parking lot on my rubbery legs and was more winded than a 40 year smoker, but we made it successfully.
And now we are spending the day resting and doing the Kilimanjaro-sized piles of laundry and dirty dishes that have appeared during my convalescence. After all, tomorrow is Halloween and I have two very cute little cheerleaders who are ready to suit up for trick-or-treating. Or as Patterson calls it “tickle treating”.
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