There was this little tickle in my throat last night, maybe a touch of sinus drainage, a wee bit of a headache, nothing a couple of tylenol couldn’t handle. Just to be safe, I borrowed a friend’s home remedy of gargling with apple cider vinegar just before bed. Nothing like going to bed smelling like a pickle barrel to spark the ol’ romance…whew!
During the night, say, 1am or so, I woke up with this thundering herd of wild mucus beasts stomping around behind my eyes and oozing their way down my throat (that felt like I’d gargled with broken glass). NASTY
More vinegar gargle, tylenol PM this time, and “great, I was wanting to go to church we’re studying Romans in Sunday School and I love Romans and if I go I’ll infect the entire population. I’ll make Terry and #4 go and tell me what happened.”
I don’t think it’s the flu. It doesn’t feel like the flu, just a sore throat (Thank You God, for inspiring my parents to convince the doctor to remove my tonsils when I was 18 otherwise I’d be in pure unadulterated misery. As it is, my throat is sore and hot coffee helps, plus I’ll keep up with the vinegar gargle. Even when something sucky happens, life is still worth living.)
It may not be the flu, but it is a good excuse to own the remote, lay on the couch and drink hot drinks, eat salt (sorry Dr. Courage, when one has a sore throat, salt is required. Blood pressure be damned), and remind the menfolk that the household contains a Delicate Flower.
I’m thinking I’ll finish up Cranford, watch North and South again, read a little, maybe plan the garden a bit. Y’know, Delicate Flower activities. Dressing is still optional.