So it’s Day 8 of Rhinovirus-palooza. According to the several medical professionals that I’ve badgered relentlessly, the common cold usually lasts 7 to 10 days, with some symptoms lasting up to three weeks. THREE weeks.
On a good note I am able to breathe through my nose again. The down side is that I am unable to swallow without my throat bursting into scorching hot flames. And I was so fond of swallowing.
In other news….
*Neither of my daughters want a Lalaloopsy dolly for Christmas. So not fair. If the girls don’t get the dolls for Christmas, how am I going to secretly play with them? The ten year old went as far as to call them ‘weird.’ Yeah right, because automated hamsters that randomly squeal even in the middle of the night are so normal.
*My Christmas shopping is almost completed. I am pleased to announce that I have been able to avoid Walmart this entire holiday season. That store drives me crazy at the best of times, but between November 1 to December 31, I consider Walmart to be Dante’s Eighth Circle of Hell and do all in my power to steer clear of it.
*My kids watched absolutely no t.v. today nor did they play on the computer and nobody died. They didn’t even complain about how unjust their lives are or how cruel their mother is. I may have to right this down in my diary.
*After all the coughing I’ve done this past week, I am terribly disappointed that my abs don’t look a little more toned.
*Despite Mr. Rhinovirus, our Christmas decorations are up! If you were to look closely at the bottom portion of our tree you can easily see where the four year old displayed her decorating touch. She put a dozen of her ornaments all within one eight-inch area.
*I’m over all these ridiculous Victorian Secret commercials. Suffering from a cold already makes me feel about as attractive as the bride of Frankenstein, but these buxom bimbos with their stupid angel wings and pouty fish lips push me right over the edge.
*Speaking of commercials, have you guys seen the ones about St. Jude Hospital? I cry every single time they come on the air. Then I seek out my cancer free offspring, hug them fiercely against their will, and count my many blessings.
When I really stop to think about it, not being able to swallow isn’t so bad after all.