What I've Got

So I went to the doctor today, as I promised my relatives, because I woke up feeling worse instead of better. The good news is that I have no signs of going into pneumonia or anything horrid like that. The bad news is that this is the virus that causes croup in wee ones, and there really isn't a magic pill. The doctor prescribed a cough suppressant (without codeine, thankfully -- you all know the story of my mom and codeine, right?) and told me to gargle with salt water (ew!) and get lots of rest and not do very much. I'm supposed to expect it to stick around for maybe 10 days, though I don't know for how long I'll be contagious (Stella?). He offered to write me a note to get me out of work this week, but I said I didn't need one. Then markgritter said I should have gotten one and taped it to my monitor. Sigh.

I also got part of my Night Shade order, including nihilistic_kid's book. Not that I was in danger of running out of books any time soon. Still. Now I'm in even less danger. Yay books.

Dubious holidays

I get myself in more trouble because of kids.

(cue "Alice's Restaurant" guitar part here)

It was a year and a half ago at New Year's, and I was visiting the Cities before we moved home, before we even knew we could move home, although we were already hoping pretty hard. markgritter had to go back to work, but it was actually cheaper for me to spend a week in Minneapolis after my week in Omaha and my week in Milwaukee. Darn. So timprov and C.J. and I were down at Heather and Dave's. Ceej had been given a long scroll two-year calendar with cartoon kittens or something on, and as he is not the sort to adorn his walls with cartoon kittens, he passed it on to Miss Siri Ann, who was not quite five years old.

Well, in her playing with me, Miss S. A. Orser discovered that the rolled up calendar made an excellent tool for beating Mrissa's butt. And I removed it from her with a patter of joshing her, saying things like, "What is this? Is it Beat Mrissa's Butt Day? Show me on this calendar where it says Beat Mrissa's Butt Day!" And so with many giggles we unrolled the calendar, and I demonstrated that January 3, 2003 (or whatever the date was) did not carry a Beat Mrissa's Butt Day annotation. So Siri flipped the calendar over and stabbed a finger at it at random. "There! That's Beat Mrissa's Butt Day!"

Dave and C.J. whipped out their Palm Pilots to make the note: August 10, 2004. Beat Mrissa's Butt Day. Thanks, guys.

And it had all gone happily forgotten, with a crash of C.J.'s happy little electronic device, until Dave's Palm beeped to remind him that Beat Mrissa's Butt Day is only a week away.

Ahhhhhh, technology.

So this is your chance. If you want to Beat Mrissa's Butt, it had better be August 10, 2004, or not at all. This is not an annual holiday, nor will there be any belated celebrations. But I'm hoping to feel enough better by then to let a small personage through the door at least. Because Siri would be awfully disappointed if we set the date and she didn't get to celebrate.

If I was any more of a sucker, I'd have a Tootsie Roll center, that's what I have to say about that.

They're ba-ack.

markgritter went to Walgreen's for my prescription and a humidifier and to Byerly's for wild rice soup (mostly soft and easy to swallow, and now we have leftovers, so if my throat is still like this tomorrow I can choose among wild rice soup, egg drop soup, and the ever popular Roo-dubbed Bob Doup). Guess what the cough suppressant is?

That's right! The yellow spheres of death! Only this time they're ellipsoids. This is the stuff that says "Do not crush or chew." On my previous prescription of it, back when I broke my ribs coughing and lost a bunch of weight from my current norm and all that, the full reading was, "Do not crush or chew; may cause sudden death."

I told people that. I put it in my journal. But when I mentioned it later, Scott got really mad at me for not making it clear that I wasn't joking. Now, I ask you, people: how often do I joke about sudden death with you? When is the last time? This happens to me a lot: people think I'm joking, and I'm flat-out serious. It doesn't help that with people I don't know very well, I fall very easily into Scandosotan flat affect/delivery. But Scott knows me very well. Scott has known me for fourteen years now, and considering that I'm only twenty-six and he's only twenty-seven, that's awhile. So I really don't think he should have gotten all mad at me on the phone later. I told him about the death thing. Not like the time I actually did almost die and actually didn't tell Michelle about it. She had reason to get mad.

So anyway, it's a familiar Yellow Sphere O' Death, and I know that when it says "may cause dizziness," it means it.

In other news, gargling with salt water is in every way nasty and hurts to boot. Bah. But I had nice soft avocado with my soup and will have ice cream later. And I'm being a good girl and drinking fluids. I have my momma's voice in my head going, "Hydrate! Hydrate!"