The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated...mostly by me

Mark Twain and me

So, I was on vacation for a week. Passover and all, that wonderful holiday of the Jews where we celebrate being freed from the oppression of the pharaoh by being oppressed by the matzoh. There's cleaning, there's cooking, there's story telling and there is constipation, pretty much in that order.

And for me, there is a serious case of "viral bronchitis" which I managed to come down with on Friday of my vacation. This is the medical term for "damn, that's a nasty cough but, it isn't ACTUALLY pneumonia". On my birthday, I called my doctor and her present to me was liquid hydrocodone, which actually does a nice job on my cough. Unfortunately, when I'm done, it does a nice job giving me a rebound migraine. Oh, and that's the third narcotic we know of that makes me itch like a sumbitch. So I had to take equal parts hydrocodone and children's Benadryl. Cause the pills weren't doing anything. So, morphine, codeine, and hydrocodeine (at least in liquid form) do NOT like me. GREAT!

So, on my first day after vacation, my birthday, I was coughing and sleeping. Mom made lamb, we had to uninvite our guests, and I slept better. On the second day, much the same. I had two more days of vacation for the last two days of passover. Yep, still sleeping. I had another sick day on Friday, which was when I had a command performance in front of my doctor who wanted to be sure it wasn't pneumonia. For those keeping score that's a week of vacation, followed by two sick days, two more days of vacation (where I was actually quite sick) and another sick day. So, for the last 8 days of my mom's vacation, she got to listen to me hack and snore. Never let it be said I don't know how to show a parent a good time. I wasn't well enough to wish for death until yesterday. I'm LESS winded walking from the couch to the kitchen, but hanging out a load of clothes necessitated a nap earlier.

I'm sorta back at work. Which means I'm on the couch with the phones trying to get out from under two weeks of email and undo the bad things that were done because I'm the only one who knows how they're supposed to be done...and Ican't even be annoyed by that because WHY am I the only one who knows how it's supposed to be done??? Oh, right. I haven't bothered to TELL anyone.

Oh, and the dogs? Yeah, they're hyped up on sunshine and have had my mom and her dog to play with for 3 weeks. It's like having a two-year-old who got into your stash of Hershey bars lose in the house while you're tied to a chair helplessly watching. I feel like Mare Winningham in that final scene of Turner and Hooch.

Off to bed. It's 9 p.m. and I feel like it's hours past my bedtime.