I hab a code

Let the whining continue! Upon returning from my epic road trip, I wake up to chills, fever, body aches, a sore throat and the inability to breathe without moving the copious amount of badness in my sinuses. My sister, K, says I sound like the sit-com version of a person with a cold. Blah.

For once, it seems that the kids and I (oh yes, Z and Q have it, too. Good times.) picked up our little viruspalooza from my dad. This is ironic because my father has charmingly called my children "carriers" (as in germ carriers) since birth. His advice? Gargle. A lot.

The good news is that for the first time in four and a half years I can take cold medicine. The bad news? They seem to have taken all the good stuff off the market since I was last able to partake. Where are my 12-hour relief formulas? What is this take every four hours garbage? I want my good old fashioned Contac capsules with the little beads inside! I guess some criminal from rural Oklahoma bought them all up to make meth and ruined the cold relief for all of us. Hanging is too good for them!

I'm off to make some Thera-Flu. It tastes a lot better if you mix it with hot tea. Or, you know, rum.

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