I’m just now getting online. I’m sick as a dog. I’ve spent the day sleeping or curled up on the couch wishing I could pass out.
Whatever plague I have is about as bad as it can be. I’d like to say I feel better. I’d be lying.
It’s probable I’ve rubbed my nose down to the cartilage. Okay, that’s not true, but it sure feels like it. What I can claim is that I’ve made it bleed profusely. Yummy! NOT!
This is the kind of disgusting illness that makes everything taste like rotted flesh. No, I don’t have a frame of reference for that comparison, but it’s hard for me to think of any other way to describe it. Even a glass of water tastes as though I just ladled a drink from the local sewage plant. It’s nasty. Breathing takes much effort because it’s worthy of a significant gag. Yes, the air tastes gross.
Speaking of which, why is it that in the midst of a cold like this, it’s near impossible to smell or taste anything—except for the foul touch of illness that permeates everything? Ugh.
Anyway, I’ll get a few things posted as long as my strength doesn’t fail me. Since there’s not much of it to utilize…