oof.

I’ve spent the last few days with The Worst Cold Ever, so my days have been a haze of low-grade fevers, incessant naps, a cough a longtime smoker would envy, and oodles of OTC medications.  I would probably bleed cough syrup if you cut me right now.  I’ve slurped so much Vicks 44 Chesty Cough that I have (shudder) gotten used to the taste.  (I cannot recommend Berry Blend.)

My fiancé has been patient with me thus far, ferrying me around and buying me groceries.  Apparently I am a grumbly patient, rolling around on his couch and groaning and kicking him when he plays his ukulele because “you’re being so NOISY.”  (I bought him a ukulele for Valentine’s Day.  Big mistake.  He hasn’t stopped playing it except to work and sleep.)  He says it’s worth it because sometimes I, half-asleep, will end phone conversations with lines like “Now I gotta go because my nasal decongestant just kicked in and it’s about to get ALL kinds of gross up in here.”

I have been getting acquainted with the Hallmark Movie Channel (love the cheesetastic The Good Witch), watching Criminal Minds marathons, abusing the heck out of my Netflixed Pushing Daisies, and trying to find the perfect horror movie (SOMEBODY got kicked pretty good because I can promise you that no, ukulele is NOT acceptable background noise when you’re trying to watch Session 9.)  I’m also reading Into the Wild.  It’s beautifully written!  I don’t know how I really feel about Chris McCandless, but Jon Krakauer is a heck of a writer.

And because I don’t really know how to end this, here’s a picture I took last fall at Omaha’s Henry Doorly Zoo.  It’s an aardvark!  Sleeping!  Don’t you just wanna run up and shove your face in his belly?