Well, I didn't die from Anthrax yesterday, so that's probably a good thing. I do feel horribly like I have a man cold, though. Which I think is worse. Because at least with Anthrax there's an end in sight. With a man cold it could go on for days and days on end.
With all the whining, I can barely stand myself. My cats don't even want to cuddle with me. I should stay home today and hide under my covers, but I'm a glutton for punishment, so it'll be off to work for me.
I could probably turn it back into a regular cold if I did something very womanly. Like shopping. That's probably what I need to do. Shopping. Or find someone in my family to nag in a shrill voice. Oh, wait, but my throat is all scratchy and if I try to be shrill I'll just start coughing and then I'll fall right back into the man cold hell hole. No, that won't do. If I'm not going to spend the day cuddled under a warm blanket with hot peppermint tea, watching Johnny Depp and Vin Diesel movies, then it'll have to be shopping.
Well, you know what that means, then. If I'm going shopping, I must leave here and go find some cute shoes to wear. I mean, really. It's a requirement.
Wish me luck.