I took a little field trip to Walgreens today and loaded up on several types of cough medicine (for day and for night), tissues, chapstick, and cough drops. Thanks to the wonder that is Robitussin I don’t feel half-bad. I do, however, sound like death warmed over.
Marty: “Hey T-Bird, how the heck are ya?”
Me: [croaks a response]
Marty: “Whoa, you sound horrible.”
Me: [croaks again]
Marty: “No, I mean, you sound really bad. What the hell happened to you?”
I know that coming to work was a mistake, but when you’re scheduled for only two days, what else can you do?
Saturday’s high is a balmy 7 degrees (cooler in the shade). Remind me again why I live in Chicago?
[[[6:30am Update: Ha! My voice is completely, utterly, and unequivocally gone. Just poof! gone.]]]
I was never laughing at you.
I was laughing with YOU!
Hope you feel better.
See you tomorrow.
I've been steadily declining all night. You should hear me now–I'm a teenage boy in all his puberty prime.
awww, Teri! I'm sorry you feel so shitty mang. Call me if you need anything.
I'm wearing a tank top.
I love you! I hope you feel better soon!