somebody, please, put me out of my misery

That Kathy Bates movie has nothing on the condition of my throat. I usually am the one person who can withstand the mega-germ infested world we live in. Somehow, throughout the years, I have managed to remain relatively unscathed by the evil thwartings of all things ill. However, I have failed my mission to be a healthy human until 2006.

My head feels like one of those cartoon anvils, and every time I move it, I expect Wile E. Coyote to cower under it's falling weight. I have a Chlorospetic numbness on my throat now, but between squirts, it feels more like sandpaper on fire. Then there's the coughing. The painful, gut-wrenching, horrible coughing. It's a ceaseless sort of cough that wants to see that I get no rest at all. But that's OK, because I really shouldn't be resting anyway. Because here's the real kicker: being self-employed does not give you sick time. So, you either tough it out and get it done or you don't do it at all and you don't get paid. Wonderful.

On the brighter side of things - the 'Tussin Buz is quite nice.