Friends and Kitties!
I am alive, and getting better.
Eons ago, the day after I turned 30, I came down with the worst flu I've ever had in my life. I ran a fever for nearly a week, and the coughing was so bad I developed pleurisy around both lungs. From start to finish it took almost two months to recover. As awful as the experience was, I did get a good funny story out of it.
The day before I fell ill was me and Scott's very first and only date. Which went well. Anyway, I'm at Scott's house the next evening, eating the nice dinner he cooked, and feeling worse by the minute. One of my little endearing gastrointestinal peculiarities is that when I get flu, I get gassy. Really gassy. We're talking horrible huge farts here. Sound AND fury. Since Scott and I are "new" I'm trying to be discrete and sink the stink into the sofa cushions...unsuccessfully. Finally, with ill-advised chivalry, Scott says to just let 'em rip. So I did.
He was awed.
And I knew he was a keeper.
I'm not nearly as ill this time, just extremely tired, with some hacking and sniffling. I took the entire week off work, mostly for the sake of my co-workers because this is certainly not good enough to share--even though Hubby ever-so-nicely passed it on to me. And you can be sure I passed something else as well...
XX Trish XX