whine and cheese minus the cheese . . .

You know that Mucinex commercial where the fat, green, cigar chomping, germ moves into some unsuspecting slouch's lungs with his entire family including Aunt Ethel and Uncle Harry???? Well, his first cousin twice removed woke me up Thursday morning by using my left tonsil as a sparring bag. From there, it was all down hill and, thanks to Fay, the doctor's office was closed. By the time I got a hold of him on Friday, I could swear I'd been munching on razor blades with a whiskey chaser. Yowzers it smarts. So freshly armed with Azithromycin, Chloraseptic and Cepacol I did what any self respecting slug would do . . . made some pudding, grabbed some ice chips and sat down to watch back-to-back chick flicks on HBO. I'm only 15 years late in seeing Mrs. Doubtfire for the first time. I wish I'd been that late in seeing Out on a Limb. I might have been lucky enough to have forgotten about seeing it at all . . . yep it was that bad. Frank, kind soul that he is, sat through Georgia Rule with me. We spent the entire two hours asking each other if the step father did or did not do it . . . glad they finally cleared it up in the end.

So long story short, I have done absolutely nothing productive in the last 48 hours, unless of course, you count the pity I felt for the herd . . . running around with crossed back legs . . . so I did change the litter boxes.