…I may be dead.

Second Death Flu in two weeks is in full swing and I fear that my immune system is shutting down and will soon wink out completely. Then I will actually die from something in the cat boxes (toxoplasmosis), and it will be a horrible, shameful, and undignified death.

I’d sleep if I could, but since the baby was up oh, about every twenty minutes last night (sometimes I exaggerate for comedic purposes. This is not one of those blessed times), I fear that it is not worth the trouble of lugging my sick self up the stairs.

If you can read this, send Theraflu. Or a gun. You know, so I can put myself out of my misery like a broken racehorse.

Comments

comments

15 thoughts on “By The Time You Read This…

  1. So sorry. I am finally feeling better from the flu that had been eating away at my will to live. I cannot fathom having to do sickness with a baby. I am sending you some good vibes.

  2. What the hell have you been doing, licking the carts in the grocery store or something? Stop it, fercrissakes.

    Feel better. That’s not a suggestion.

  3. I have only started reading you recently, so please don’t die.

    When I was on maternity leave it seemed that every one of my sinus infections coincided with grumpy/teething baby times. It was more than enough to drive me back to work.

    Take Nyquil. I fucking love that shit.

  4. I feel so bad for you. I’ve been battling some nasty cold/sore throat thing for the past week. I got the doctor to prescribe some cough medicine with codeine and it is like heaven in a bottle. I hope you are feeling better soon, the flu sucks!

  5. I feel your pain. On the being sick and the sleepless child. If misery loves company (and I do believe it do) then I would be the best company ever right now.

  6. Well, I suppose you’ll be sending it back to me then…no! please don’t because I’m only now recovering from the first round.

    Find a hole, crawl in it and hide (but don’t forget that laptop ’cause we all need our Becky-fix!).

    Hope you feel better soon.

  7. Theraflu. Gun. Theraflu. Gun. Tough call. I think Emily’s right, go with opium. The smoke will quiet the munchkin.

    You poor poor thing. What in the world is going on up there? Is there a typhoid Mary in your midst? She’s lurking at the school isn’t she…watch…your..back… 🙂

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