I spent a few nights with my Nana weekend before last because she was very very sick with some sort of something that hurt from the top of her head to her toes and made her chest feel like it was in a vise grip so badly that she ended up in the ER having all sorts of tests done on her heart. (All turned out ok)
The third morning of my visit I woke up with a 75 lb head and the birth of achy pains. That was last Tuesday. For 8 days I've had first hand knowledge of what that chesty vise grip feels like. Life is beautiful and all that jazz but right now I'd like to see a light at the end of the tunnel. The sick tunnel, that is, not the life tunnel.
I've spent most the last week moving from bed to couch and back again, pausing when I could breathe for a few minutes to attempt something strenuous in hopes of breaking my fever. Yeah. Don't do that, ok?
Bright side. I got 1 of my Christmas trees put up yesterday working in 5 to 7 minute increments at a time. Which means it only took 6 hours.
If you need me for anything I'll be on the couch staring at it through my eyelids between coughing fits during which I yearn to once again not sound like an 80 year old 2 pack a day lifelong smoker sitting in front of a slot machine in Vegas with a cigarette hanging out of her blood red lipstick slathered mouth.
Bling Bling, Baby.