All last week I had a cold. I snuffled. I coughed. I sat in my chair. Sit sit sit, with my cat in my lap. I watched Battlestar Galactica dvds, I ate soup, I drank OJ. Drink drink drink.
How much fun was it? None. None fun.
Oh, sure, my cat loved it. She was in psycho kitty heaven, sucking up my body warmth and biting me every time I went to take yet another hot shower or make a tuna sandwich. Bite bite bite. That's Baggy's favorite trick.
After something like 7 or 8 days of sitting and sipping and being bit every so often, I now declare myself healed. Discount the rough cough I may be wracked with every so often. Please ignore the slightly distant look on my face as my addled brain catches up with the conversation. Because there's no way those things are going to kill me, but cabin fever was about to.
Dead dead dead.