I’m sick. My tonsils have decided to exact a long, painful revenge on me. For what, I have no idea. I have given them a warm, moist, hospitable home for all these years, after all. So many tonsils end up homeless– washed up in the side of some medical waste bag– taken out before their prime, but mine… oh, boy, have mine ever had the life. Twenty-eight years of regular gargling, tons of water consumption, and lots of vocal exercise, and this is how they repay me?!? It’s like they WANT me to take them out or something!
I hate being sick. Work piles up. The dog hates when I’m sick. He doesn’t get walked. The cats are the only ones winning here… they have an extra snuggle buddy, and they seem to be fans of the idea. (this is their idea of playing nurse… good thing I can administer my own meds…)