I'm getting sick. I don't feel really sick today. But I feel like you do right before you get really sick. I woke up Sat morning with one of the glands in my throat completely swollen and tender. I took a nap shortly after I got up yesterday. The most active thing I did yesterday was go to a movie and cut up a cantalope.
I hate summer colds. The only upside of being sick is that you get to stay home all wrapped up in blankets on the couch. And when it's 90+ degrees out, it's hard to stay wrapped up. Here's hoping it's just a head cold and nothing more.
[edit October 31, 2005 - those of you looking for the words to Shel Silverstein's poem "Sick" please continue.]
SICK by Shel Silverstein
"I cannot go to school today,"
Said little Peggy Ann McKay,
"I have the measles and the mumps,
A gash, a rash, and purple bumps.
My mouth is wet, my throat is dry,
I'm going blind in my right eye.
My tonsils are as big as rocks,
I've counted sixteen chicken pox
And there's one more--that's seventeen,
And don't you think my face looks green?
My leg is cut, my eyes are blue--
It might be instamatic flu.
I cough and sneeze and gasp and choke,
I'm sure that my left leg is broke--
My hip hurts when I move my chin,
My belly button's caving in,
My back is wrenched, my ankle's sprained,
My 'pendix pains each time it rains.
My nose is cold, my toes are numb,
I have a sliver in my thumb.
My neck is stiff, my voice is weak,
I hardly whisper when I speak.
My tongue is filling up my mouth,
I think my hair is falling out.
My elbow's bent, my spine ain't straight,
My temperature is one-o-eight.
My brain is shrunk, I cannot hear,
There is a hole inside my ear.
I have a hangnail, and my heart is--what?
What's that? What's that you say?
You say today is---Saturday?
G'bye, I'm going out to play!"
