I’m sick with creeping crud, but Joshilyn Jackson’s even sicker than I am, and yet she has more humor in her left pinky when sick than I have in my entire left side of my body:
I am STILL. FREAKING. SICK. I was SO sick for so long that I actually BROKE down and went to the doctor to get an anti-viral, and then I had a huge allergic reaction to it and broke out in HIVES. Where are the hives, you ask? OH. JUST MY FACE.
Why couldn’t I have SHOULDER hives, I ask you? Or FOOT hives? I look like Maisy was right, like I am actually suffering from leprosy. I also still have a snot filled nose, droopy-weep eyes, malaise, vague joint pain, and a sour attitude. I have washed my hands so much in an attempt to NOT give this horror-flu to my children that under my wedding/engagement rings, my finger has swollen and cracked with dryness. So now I can’t wear my rings.
I am going back to the doctor today, because GOOD LORD I am falling apart…BUT! AFTER! As soon as ever I get home, I am throwing myself an ENORMOUS pity-party. You are invited. It is fancy dress, though I myself will be wearing a haz-mat suit to avoid infecting you all. Perhaps we can take a BEDAZZLER to the suit to fancy it up.
At my pity party, I will have a champagne fountain and celebrity guests who will wave at me from across the room because if *I* was a celebrity guest, I wouldn’t hug my leprous, hive-coated host with the scabby finger and the tissue stuffed chronically up one nostril, even if she WAS in a haz-mat suit. Fame has its privileges, and since I am one hump and a bulgy eye away from being Disney’s version of Quasimodo, if I TRULY want the celebrity guests to come, maybe I should host my party from inside a BUBBLE. OH! I also want an ice swan. After the party I can whack its head off with an axe and then wrap the head in a towel and hold its soothing coolness to my swollen face.
Oh, lordy — I wasn’t expecting a decapitated ice swan, which sent me into fits of laughter so strong that it sent me into fits of coughing so now I sound like I’m about the cough up a spleen and make my poor colleagues and students think I’m a typhoid Mary, dying of bubonic plague or whatnot.