It's a sick ... house

Right, so maybe that was a little weak, but you can blame the illness that's plagued me for the last fracking week.

First, though, an update on young Simon: His eyes are all better now, and he's recovered nicely from a subsequent stomach ailment that he'd rather I not describe in detail on this blog. He's a brave young lad, and he gave his mom some much needed exercise running away from the syringe full of Flagyl that she brandished at 12-hour intervals for seven days.

Simon's just fine now, but alas, I haven't fared as well. A nasty head cold that's been making its way through the newsroom landed on me with a resounding sneeze. The first couple of days, though undeniably snotty and disgusting, were fairly manageable, but then the nastiness settled in my lungs. Now I have an ugly and no doubt distracting cough. Today I laughed and was promptly informed that I sound like one of the Golden Girls.

The cough certainly sucks, as does being so exhausted that even with 8 to 12 hours of sleep I'm still longing for bed by noon. But what sucks even more is what I think might be an inner ear infection, which has left me wobbly and nauseated. Imagine, if you will, me, staggering down the street in 3-inch heels, pausing every couple of steps to catch my balance and cough. It's not pretty, ladies and gentlemen. And, I have an alarmingly swollen lymph node in my neck. I am woe. Pity me.

And so, tomorrow I'm going to the doctor, who I hope will be able to expedite my recovery so I can turn 31 (or 30 -- I'm still trying to decide whether to lie about my age for the next few years) in good health.