Life in a fog

I feel crappy... oh so crappy... I've felt crappy...unhappy... all day!

As usual, my life is a song. Today, it's a crummy song. The impetus for my crummy song is the crummy cold I caught from my (definitely not crummy) son. His cold came from his daycare friend, Ley-Lynn, who got it from her mommy, Michelle.

I'm certain this most recent sharing of germs was generated during the freak 50- 60-degree days we had not so long ago. But now it's 90 and humid, and being sick quite frankly blows.

I slept about three hours—maybe—last night, and managed to lose my ice cream snack after dosing up on sore throat meds at 3 AM. Ugh.

Today my whole head is surrounded in a heavy, thick fog, and I'm downing cold medicines (in three or four different varieties) like candy (bars, in my case).

I have a meeting this afternoon at work, or I would seriously have considered turning right around after dropping Noah off at daycare an hour late this morning. It's clear this will not be a productive day.

Still, I remain hopeful. I need to feel well this weekend so that our quaint BBQ (the last of three little 30th b-day pops) isn't ruined in a sea of snot and Zicam. And let's not forget that it's generally frowned upon to mix alcohol and medicine—especially cold medicine—and I have a real hunkering for some icy minty mojitos.

So, gods or goddesses of health, feel free to get cracking on me. I promise to make it up to you by exercising at least twice next week and increasing my salad intake three-fold. I swear...

Anyone have a tissue? Sniff.