As is typical, my immune system held out long enough to get me through the work week and folded the moment the weekend started. So last night, instead of going to the theater to see Brokeback Mountain as planned, I wallowed on the couch with a gin & tonic (for medicinal purposes) while Dr. Darling fought to keep a straight face everytime I opened my mouth. (And she’s never even seen the "Peter Goes Through Puberty" episode of the Brady Bunch.)
Thanks to some generic Nyquil imported from the U.S., I got a fairly decent night’s sleep. But I woke up with a killer headache quite early this morning and my cough has definitely gotten worse over the course of today. It’s firmly settled in my chest and likes to kick in when I’m in mid-sentence or laughing…which means I’ve gone from "pubescent boy" to "old man with emphysema" in less than 24 hours.
It also means that I haven’t felt well enough to do much in the way of packing for the move (which happens three weeks from TODAY notthatI’mcountingoranything), and tonight we missed dinner out with friends AND great theme party with lots of fun people.
Being sick SUCKS.