Sometime after I left the house last night, Welf started feeling sick: runny nose, sore throat, etc. By this morning, she was feeling even worse. I didn't think anything of it aside from feeling bad for her as she grew increasingly more pitiful as the day progressed. As it stands, she may not make it to work tomorrow.
Through this evening though, I began sneezing profusely. I started experiencing a nasal drip which naturally led to a sore throat. I laid down to go to bed about an hour and a half ago. After an hour of fitful sleep I woke up with an awful sore throat from the drainage in the back of my throat and an increasingly stuffy nose which was making it hard to breathe.
At least it doesn't seem to be the flu. Just seems to be the common cold. Usually I can fight these off rather quickly with the proper methods. I went into the truckstop a little while ago and bought two bottles of orange juice and a bottle of Nyquil. I took one dose and am waiting on it to kick-in. I'll take another half dose just before I lay down again, and that oughta knock me out and let me sleep rather comfortably through the night. Right now, I'm forcing myself through the OJ. I had hoped to find some zinc lozenges but alas, they didn't have any. I took some Cold-Eze a couple of winters ago at the onset of a cold and the symptoms were gone within 12 hours. If I'm still feeling lousy in the morning I may have to locate a Walmart or grocery store and see if I can find some.
Twitter holds no interest for me, but I have come across one Twitter page that I liked so much that I syndicated it on LJ so it would appear on my flist. It's called Shit My Dad Says. Some guy named Justin, who is an adult still living with his parents, records the foul-mouthed, smart-ass ramblings of his 73 year old father for your entertainment. Here's a sample of what you can expect:
It's not the gardener's job to pick up the dog shit. If you don't want to pick up the dog shit, then learn a skill like gardening.
You're gonna run into jerk offs. But remember, it's not the size of the asshole you worry about, it's how much shit comes out of it.
Sometimes life leaves a hundred dollar bill on your dresser, and you don't realize until later that it's because it fucked you.
The worst thing you can be is a liar....Okay fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but THEN, number two is liar. Nazi 1, Liar 2.
Don't listen to the pussy side of you when you make a decision. People gravitate towards being a pussy. Remove the pussy, son.
I'm having a Makers Mark, you want one? What? 7up? I ain't mixing fucking makers with 7up. Might as well put a lil' fucking umbrella in it.
What are you listening to?...I know who Hall & Oates are god dammit. It's the mustache guy and the gay man.
You know, sometimes it's nice having you around. But now ain't one of those times. Now gimmie the remote we're not watching this bullshit.
Your mother made a batch of meatballs last night. Some are for you, some are for me, but more are for me. Remember that. More. Me.
The dog is not bored, it's a fucking dog. It's not like he's waiting for me to give him a fucking rubix cube. He's a god damned dog.
The dog is an outside dog. You want an inside dog, you go get your own inside.
The LJ syndication is shitmydadsays if you're interested.