Well, as we say here in Appalachia, I been real sick.
Husband had it first - respiratory, drifting into bronchitis. Then Daughter had it, sans bronchitis.
Then it was my turn, with bronchitis and laryngitis.
As soon as you stop all your corny jokes about how that sure did give Husband a well earned vacation from all my yakking, consider this:
I can't hear well, so he has to be in close proximity to speak. I can't see well without my glasses, so if I'm reading, he has to get close for me to see. And with the ability to speak only in a whisper for five days, guess how close he had to be to hear me?
I guess he ain't as lucky as you thought.
But all things pass, and I woke up with a voice yesterday.
I still ain't at full throttle, so don't expect any yodeling any time soon.
I went to the gastroenterologist last week. Today I went to the "lady" doctor. Tomorrow I go to the urologist.
None of these, as I have been trying to tell you, involve hypochondria.
I have gotten shed enough of THE bronchitis that I was able to see one of my great-nieces for the first time and hold her this past weekend.
You know her mama wouldn't let a hypochondriac hold a newborn.
Finally, after wishful thinking, I am getting a new kitchen floor covering. We did an overhaul of the kitchen that many years back, but just didn't have enough for a new flooring.
You know a hypochondriac wouldn't wait five years for new flooring. I mean, they'd make up something to get their way - like develop a horrible allergy to the old floor.
Coughs violently then sneezes three times.
Looks like I'm gettin' that floor just in time.
