I am going into work tomorrow if it kills me. And the rest of my office.

I have been couped up in this house since SATURDAY NIGHT. Saturday night, people. I can't take it anymore. Just cannot. It's too much for one woman, all of this sickness. And there is nothing else I can do to relieve all of my symptoms. If there was, I would try it.

Would you believe that I'm sitting here, Kleenex, Burt's Bees and petroleum jelly at my side, while I type with a BREATHE RIGHT strip across my nose? That's right. I've resorted to using things that everyone and their brother tells you are a hoax and do you want to know why?

Because I can't breathe, which means I can't sleep. Or eat. I can barely talk. And there is a strip across the strip that I am supposed to scratch to release vapors of some sort but I swear to God I can't smell them.

The dog is staring at me. She knows how stupid I look. "Really, mama," Glin is saying. "Do you know what a sucker you are? Now go get me a pig's ear. Make it a double, chump."

Sigh. Wish me luck that when I awake tomorrow all is right with the world. At lease my part of it. For now, I'm going to go and watch Boston Legal and hope that come morning light I won't find one of these strips stuck to my hair.

Posted by Erin at 08:46 PM | filed under: Random Stupidity

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