Sinus clog. Ugh.

You might recall how I complained, just a smidge, about razorblades in my throat? Well, I was a fool. I thought I knew pain then, but I was wrong. I woke up and I thought I'd die when I first tried to swallow. Needless to say, I was less than thrilled when my mother oh so thoughtfully pointed out the A1 for use on tonight's dinner. Would you like me to just open up and you could pour acid down my throat, cuz I think that would be easier. I didn't say this, as talking hurts.

I go back to sleep and wait for my alarm to go off. I wake up 3 minutes before it does, and again, think this is the worst sore throat ever. I pause to assure you, when I was younger, I was queen of the sore throat. The only thing I did better? Ear infections. So I stumble downstairs and try to locate someone, anyone, who can either convince me tomorrow will be worse, or will call out for me, since I will not speak. The pain. Mom is found, takes pity on my soul, and I toddle back upstairs to die. I set my alarm for the middle of the night so I won't have too much trouble sleeping tomorrow and then notice my phone is flashing. Cass calling. I answer, sort of, and she talks until we both need sleep.

I then pull up my covers and fry myself to sleep. Which is how I know for damn sure I don't feel well. I'm the anti-cover hog but when I'm sick, I find the blankets that make you dream you've gone to hell, you get that hot. No dreams of hell, thankfully.

Finished reading Red for Remembrance - Laurie Faria Stolarz. Figures it's book four or something in a series. :p

Ugh. Smoke! The boy is trying to kill me. Stupid smokers and their stupid self centered, I don't care that you're trying to breathe, I'm having a nicotine fix and I can't be bothered to hang my head out the window, so you suffer and get sicker ways.

*shakes fist*

I'm gonna go shower and die.