Wednesday

10 February 2010

In a Nyquil-drenched dream last night, the Boy threw open my bedroom door and gifted me with a life-sized likeness of my own head. Wrapped in foil. Face covered in soot. With bedhead. So that I could "remember what the nursery was like."

No, I don't understand it at all.

In other news, I think Death frenched me as I slept last week, and I've spent the last 7 days with a blowtorch burning in my throat, a nasty cough, and fatigue that's starting to feel like part of my DNA.

:::coughcoughcough:::

You're welcome.

8 comments:

Angel and Kirby said...

We are sorry you are not feeling well. I have that blow torch throat!

kenju said...

I am sorry to hear that you are ill. So far this season, I have escaped everything upper respiratory - although I probably should not brag about that or I'll get it for certain! Hope you are well again soon.

Marti said...

I hope that you feel better soonest!

Marti said...

It's Denny's loss, not yours. The people still will bring you Denny leftovers (or your own full portion).

Karen Jo said...

I hope that you feel better soon, Thumper. That blowtorch throat is no fun at all. Sickness plus meds can really bring on some weird dreams.

Char said...

What did you do with the head?

The Whiskeratti said...

Yuck...... take more Nyquil. :)

Lemon Stand said...

When the nyquil doesn't work... and the chicken soup doesn't work... I start making hot toddies courtesy of Capt. Morgan. I figure if nothing else is working... it can't hurt. :o) I hope by this time you are feeling MUCH better!