I have bronchitis.

After finally hauling myself to the doctor's office, I came away with antibiotics and cough syrup. So far, neither seem to be really helping. I've relegated myself to the guest room where I can hack and cough without waking everyone else up.

So, I'm going to run a few errands this morning and come back and crash in bed. I'm hoping whatever version of Death I've managed to catch is soon on its way out. It's really cramping my style. No one likes hanging out with a chick that sounds like a seventy-year-old BAR hag.

Really.

Just call me, make me laugh, you're in for a treat.

Labels: house of sickness and viral death