Getting Worse

Man, I feel like total shiat. My cough had gone nuclear for a few hours, I've got a slight fever, and yet I still feel slightly chilled, too. Luckily I don't have the nausea or the body aches (well, except for those muscles that instantly contract whenever I cough), yet, and so far I've avoided that whole run-over-by-a-truck feeling. (And I don't need a bucket, either).

However, like Brigid mentioned in the comments, I think this will be a quick bout--hopefully it'll only really kick my ass for about three days. As bad as my cough was earlier, it's not as severe tonight as it was earlier in the day, and my lungs are starting to feel like they only have crumbs in them instead of the whole damn cookie like they did most of the day.

But I'm far from out of the woods. I've got a long way to go before I feel like I can leave the house and do anything productive again. At least I've got the sense god gave a coconut and am staying home tonight, instead of going down to the poker room and spreading my germs around, like some people...

Am I bitter? Hell yeah I am! If I would've just stayed home on Thursday night and plowed through all the junk on my DVR, I'd have an extra $150 in my wallet and I wouldn't be spending the day trying to hack up my lungs. In fact, I feel so crappy that I called up Eddie W and begged off of going down to the Rio for some old-skool Vegas-style buffoonery with one of my Original Gangsters. Instead, I'm sitting in front of the computer wearing some old sweats and trying to slurp down a still-too-hot cup of instant noodles. It sucks to be me right now.

And as tired as I was last night, I never got any sleep at all--I stayed up all morning cleaning the house, watching TV, and farting around on the computer until AC showed up to watch the Dodger game. It was a fun afternoon--I took enough drugs to temper most of my symptoms, and we chilled out drinking Sam Adams Octoberfest and eating a damn good pie from Villa Pizza (their wings--only so-so). After the first game, we hung out on the patio smoking cigars and drinking cocktails made with premium booze and Mexican Coke. He went with the Crown Royal, I had Appleton's.

Once we came back inside, I made it until the fifth inning of the Angels game before I passed out--I'd been up for over 24 hours straight, and in my weakened condition, I couldn't keep my eyes open. So AC headed out to the casino to make his football bets and maybe play a little poker, while I took a hot shower then packed a couple of cough drops in my cheeks like a squirrel and headed off to bed. I got about five solid hours of sleep before my phone woke me up, but I ignored it.

I may kick around for a little while, but I'm about to take another hot-as-I-can-stand-it shower, swallow a few pills, and probably go back to bed.

I hope the rest of y'all have a good weekend.


Mikey