Muddle headed

To summarize my last three days - cof, cof, sneeze, moan, sniffle, cof.

Fever of 102 F, cough, throat, congestion, restless sleep, you know the drill. Flu, or cold masquerading as flu. At least, Max is getting better. I'm a couple of days behind him, so hopefully I'll be better by Christmas. My good husband has as yet kept the feverish beastie at bay. If he gets sick too, we may as well put up a quarantine sign, board up the windows, lay on the floor and die. I don't seem capable of much coherent thought. I wonder if I'm making sense. Are the pigs dancing? Yes, the pigs are dancing.

um, maybe I shouldn't blog when ill...