I was already begrudgingly hosting the ornery Coughy McHacksalot when, well after midnight, Chilly O'Feverish showed up on the doorstep with a suitcase brimming with Aches&Pain®. The two unwelcome guests partied the night away in my bed (the miserable vagrants). I could only shiver helplessly as I clung, desperate for warmth, to McPie's strangely cool body, praying for oblivion...
McPie whupped O'Feverish with a solid round of Advil, and the devil was gone by morning. McHacksalot and I are still in bed this afternoon, sleeping off the hangover from the Aches&Pain®.
Having spent a weekend two months ago with their terrible sister Snotty McSinus, the bragging rights I'd won from years of avoiding the company of the Terrible Trio are officially void.
2 comments:
are you on the upswing yet? i always thought it was a little odd the way you never got sick. feel better!
All the symptoms of grief - stay in bed and be sick. Take your time and let go of the sorrow. Heal yourself. Take care...
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