Lounging Around on Death's Doorstep

It began with a cough. Not my own cough. It was Juan's cough that kicked the flu festivities into action.

J: (cough)

D: Are you alright?

J: (COUGH) Yeah. I just have this tickle.

I JUST HAVE THIS TICKLE. And then he proceeded to hack maleficent microbes all over me for the rest of the evening.

I have succumbed. I'm fairly sure that my expiration is coming anon. In the meantime, I will lie in bed and nap between doses of Mucinex, Advil, Zicam, and Chloraseptic. Damn those little germy bastards! Damn them to hell!! (It is important to note that I would be screaming this last sentiment while shaking my fist to the sky, only my throat is far too sore and I don't have the strength to hold my arm up for that long.)