The bronchitis is having its way with me. I haven’t slept for days, since the cough gets unbearable when I lie down. Rob is being wonderful about us having to cancel our visit to visit my sister. He has taken me to the doctor, brought me take-out food, grocery-shopped, etc.
My voice is completely gone at this point. I do emit guttural sounds when I cough, though. Charming, right?
You do know that women of a certain age can’t cough or sneeze without a few pees. Let’s just say I have run the bathroom marathon in spite of feeling like hell warmed over.
I am writing this because I can’t sleep and what else can I do at seven a.m. on a Saturday morning but write. I write myself through virtually everything.
The event where I caught the virus was called Sing for Peace. Ironic, that.
The house looks like a tornado passed through, a tornado that left tissues, cough drops, cans of cola, dirty laundry, dirty dishes and worse.
I would say something optimistic, but I can’t say anything.
I am sure there is a rose in this thorn somewhere. Not that I could smell it….