suck X a thousand

It's SUNDAY and after almost ten days of this shit, my immune system needs to be taken out back and SHOT.

Fricken' useless thing.

I'm going to the doctor because whateverinfuck is taking place of OXYGEN in my lungs has got to go. I literally sound like your wheezey old uncle. The one who STILL smokes his sixty Malboroughs before lunch each day, and I don't look much better either, what with all the coughing and spluttering and deprivation of Oh Two going on around here.

And, oh yeah, the grieving, because that shit only gets WORSE before it gets better but I haven't heard DICK about THAT part of the equation yet.

I'm a bit freaked out too, by the drugs I'm no doubt going to be infiltrating my system with in t minus one hour because I haven't taken an antibiotic for, like, fuck, ten years. Fifteen. More maybe. I've had scripts filled then taken them home and tossed them merrily aside before letting my immune system kick some VIRAL ass (note to script happy doctor: TAKE A NOTE) which it DOES, pretty fucking tout suite too, everytime, thankyou very much, but this time? MY GOD. SO not so much so.

Daniel has been holed up at home with me for the ENTIRE week too, and while I'm loving hanging out with him ALL DAY (no, really, true story) the dude must be getting bored of all this...hey, you know that Dali painting. The one with the clocks? Yeah, THAT has got to be boring him senseless.

Though he's not actually complaining. He even kept his peep hole shut when I spent a good part of Friday morning tick tocking my way languidly on the sofa, OBLIVIOUS to him building a branch line (AH GOT MAH TWAIN TWACKS!) on the floor next to me for AT LEAST an hour (or, as time is measured in the Bee household lately, as long as it takes for one complete viewing of the Playschool concert on DVD) while I periodically swatted him away and mumbled encouraging remarks like "hrrm, snffrgmph, phlrrrt". Some would call it snoring, I like to call it I Wasn't Asleep And My Child Was Completely Supervised.

He's an absolute delight, this child of mine, and that's quite apart from him being my child and it being my job to think he's awesome. He really is. No lie, which is why hearing "well at least you have Daniel" kind of doesn't help.

Nor does my asshole back which, since my encounter with trolley boy, is COMPLETELY unstable. I bloody well YAWNED earlier, and now my entire left shoulder and neck is in spasm, as is - and get THIS shit - my left ankle. I KNOW. What THAH? Exactly.