Bus Fumes

I hate being sick. Hate, hate, HATE being sick. Day 10 of the head cold from hell. Sinuses alternate between feeling like they've been hot sandblasted one minute and hand-packed with quick-set concrete the next. Yacking up phlem balls. Barking cough that doubles me over and leaves me breathless. Cranky, whiny, bitchy. Head full of cotton wool. Tired. Blech.

(Buckaroo Bonsai should be eligible for sainthood for putting up with me through this.)

Whaaaaah!

I just want to be healthy again.

'Scuse me. I'm off to find a hot toddy now. Maybe that'll fix it. The Nyquil certainly isn't.
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