Three weeks in Europe and not a blog entry to show for it. And you’re not getting one now.
It was wonderful. Don’t mistake me. But I caught a cold abroad, and that’s pretty much what I’m thinking about these days. Because the cold soon passed into a dry cough, which then passed into a horrible wet cough that makes me sound like a tuberculosis victim in her final days, and that cough lingers and lingers and lingers. (I was great fun at Thomas’s New Year’s Eve party, let me tell you.)
It is funny how many cough remedies there are out there, and how many people want to tell you about them. Special teas, whiskey drinks, medicines, vapor rubs, willpower. One guy very earnestly suggested I just try breathing IN once in a while. After a while, you stop hearing the separate remedies and start hearing everyone saying the same thing: “Can you just try…NOT being so fucking sick around me?” I really can’t blame them; I sound like Pestilence’s girlfriend.
But anyhow, I am back here in the home, where the air is warm and the couch is soft and the herbal teas are plentiful and the doctor gave me an inhaler. Plus, all my clothes are here, so at least I can look cute while I’m expelling lung bits. (Yeah, you think this is gross, but just be grateful I’m not coming to visit, okay?) And once I’ve curled up with this inhaler a few times, I will surely start to mend, and then I’ll write about things other than my foul contagion, like what a great time we had on the trip and all the things we saw and did.
HACK HACK COUGH WHEEEEEEZE
Back to the couch.