I'm sick, y'all.
Like, drowning in my own phlegm, coughing until I pee my pants, sneezing in twenty-sneeze increments spaced less than five minutes apart (like contractions! Of the sinuses!), throat so sore I have contemplated huffing a fire extinguisher, body aching so bad I am walking stooped over like an old woman, sick.
It's totally sexy and I have no idea why Hugh declined to have his way with me on Valentine's Day.
Actually, that's not quite true, he didn't have his way with me because I was in a Nyqil coma and he draws the line at sex with a narcoleptic; he's a gentleman that way.
While Valentine's Day was unpleasant, yesterday was the crisis point of the illness; my fever topped out at 100.9, I sweated completely through every stitch of clothing that I attempted to wear and the skin on my nose started to peel off in sheets, thanks to the three boxes of tissues that I blew through in a six-hour period.
Once again, so damn sexy...
I would love to say that I am feeling better today but, that would be a lie. I still feel pretty damn shitty. But, I have obligations to meet, including a trip to Neighboring City to try on bridesmaids dresses for a wedding that The Teenager and I have been asked to participate in this summer.
I seriously considered cancelling on the bride, but, this was the only appointment she could get at the bridal salon and several of the other members of the wedding party had already begged out, so; I feel like I would be letting her down if I bailed out now.
On the other hand, she's totally going to blame me if she comes down with the plague next week. But, as I said above; at least she won't be puking.