It Is No Fun Being Sick

It is no fun being sick

The hallway sounds like the Twilight Bark with each of us taking turns coughing up our souls in the dark of night. My coughs rattle my ribs and convulse so I fear I may dislodge something that was never meant to be dislodged. And I am amazed that the nasal cavity could hold so much mucous. Truly, how is it possible for me to expel three times my body weight in snot?

My relationship with Kleenex is see-sawing. I never want to see another tissue again, especially not at such close range, but every five seconds I am grateful that the box of Kleenex isn't quite empty yet.

Ugh. I will be glad to have rid of the winter colds.

Now, George is not my dog. He is my sister’s dog and she is his human.

Toby is my cat and I am his food-bringer.

But I am looking after George for a bit. This means more attention to the lonely but friendly dog and less to the independent cat. This should be fine. But Toby has begun speaking for no reason.

Normally, Toby meows for three main reasons: “I am hungry!”, “Litter box stinks!”, “Door is closed!”.

Lately he has meowed for no reason, following me around. Finally I picked him up, cuddled, petted, cooed, and basically showered him with the attention he usually walks away from. Instead of getting upset he starts purring.

Oh.

A bit of a rough illustration for storytellerkris’ ongoing magician tale.

Busting a myth?

So, I bought a sansevieria. Legend has it that this plant is near immortal; it can survive low light and cool temperatures.

Well, we're gonna put that to the test. I have brought it home with me to live with me in this converted Cold War bomb shelter. I kid you not, that is what this strange building I live in actually is.

Let's see how long the sansevieria lasts. And name it. Hmm.

From Decoder Ring Theatre’s Black Jack Justice series episode “Full Fathom Five:

Trixie: Rita, could you bring me another rye and water please? I’d like to throw it in Jack’s face.

Jack: Don’t hurry on that, Rita.