Couldn’t wait to wake up this morning.
I knew I would be cured.
After all, it has been 7 days of the silence of the lambs. Ooops. Silence of the chicken butt.
“Not so fast, my pretty”, said the wicked witch.
You guessed it: Nothing.
Sensing a need for more cough syrup, the mutant drove to the pharmacy and immediately found herself engaged in a non verbal conversation.
“What you need is a nice cheese steak, with hot sauce,” said the lovely lady behind the counter.
I tried to tell her that what I really need is a nice cup of hemlock, but she just replied: “Oh that’s good.”
Moving right along, to the grocery store, to get more cat food.
You know, most people go to the store once a week.
I am making that trip, it seems, every other day.
My cats are into their groceries, big time.
As I trudged up the stairs with the cat food and cough syrup, I was greeted by 2 fat felines.
Oh those poor babies. So hungry.
After all I was gone about 45 minutes.
Time for my antibiotic, which immediately make me sleepy, so off to bed I go again.
What the hell.
It isn’t even noon.
As the afternoon sped by, I had a feeling that there was an interloper in the picture.
Yes, the Oh Wow cat is checking out my condition every 15 minutes or so, to see if I am still alive I guess, and will be able to feed his ass.
I made the supreme sacrifice, got up, fed the interloper and his sister, and ate a banana.
Made a mental note: “Hey, how are you feeling?”
“Not so hot. Still sore throat and ears, coughing and run down.”
Yes, I talk to myself.
Not out loud, of course.
I have no voice.
I hope that fat boy comes in soon.
I am ready to party.
It’s super bowl Sunday!
I have my night night pill, my cough medicine and a good old bottle of water, to carry into bed, to watch the game.
Should be a wild night.