For the last 48 hours, I have been unsuccessfully trying to tame this shrew. By shrew, of course, I'm referring to a nasty case of bronchitis that lives to make sleep a fleeting luxury and who exists solely to make Kaia's last couple days in NYC before she heads to SFO an exercise in her watching me sleep, getting me medicine and/or soup, and covering me up with blankets, aiming/firing up/turning off/adjusting the air/heat, or just simply trying to make me smile between violent coughing jags.
We've been running all over the place, from Friday night into Saturday. By Sunday, when I woke up feeling shitty, I knew it was going to be one of those days. I just wish the day part was singular and not plural.
Wellums, I am heading back to bed; hopefully I will emerge from this cocoon of medicine, obfuscated sleep, labored breathing and dizzy twilight the better. Although, then again, when they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger most likely never took modern antibiotics.