The sickness arrived at about six o’clock Thursday morning. It arrived by air, and brought with it a sore throat and some seriously swollen glands. It is most certainly an unwelcome visitor, at a most inconvenient time. The sickness also had shivers and a temperature of 38.3 Celsius in its carry on luggage.
The sickness was not at all put off by my massive doses of Vitamin B, C, or D; not to mention twelve zinc lozenges, six drops of oil of oregano, one packet of Neo-Citron, and at least three glasses of good old-fashioned O.J. from a carton.
The sickness has prevented me from doing all the things I love to do on Thursday evenings: cook dinner, kiss my husband when he returns from work, eat dinner at the table while looking lovingly into my husband’s eyes, watch Survivor on PVR, and write about something inane for comedic purposes.
That sickness is a real son of a beotch.