Sippin on sizzurp.


I write this post from the sofa of misery, where I am camped out tonight in hopes that keeping myself upright will cut down on the barking seal sound that I have been making.  B has spent the last two nights here (and considering he is over 6 feet tall, and the sofa is actually a loveseat, I am amazed he is still functional) to avoid my germs and get far enough away from my coughing that it doesn’t wake him up every five minutes, and to give me room to get rest.  I couldn’t let him spend another night out here, so I have taken over the space while he studies.  Major brownie points to him for letting me rest, though.  Major.

Cough syrup doesn’t do much for me, other than make me not care that I am coughing.  Just a couple of tablespoons full, and I am out.  Lil Wayne does not want to party with me.  Although, more sizzurp for him if I go down after a single shot, so maybe he does?

I’m out of Theraflu now, so it’s down to Mucinex and cough drops.  Wish me luck.  Until then, I leave you with my favorite drinking song: