Some cheese with that Whine?

Last week, as those good readers who take notes on the minutae of my thrilling life know, I had some dental work. It was one of those wake-up-oh-my-heavens-my-tooth-hurrrrrrrts-call-the-dentist-and-beg-for-HELP things. Luckily, she was able to see me.

So, the next day, I'm taking my adorable red pills AND antibiotics AND pudding and I think I'm on the mend. Then I start to feel... not so great. Achey. Cold. Blech. I'm running a fever. I call my dentist, who says that since my tooth is not throbbing and such, probably this fever is related to something else.

She was right.

So, for the last week, I've been a big, whiney mess. I've coughed, sniffled, complained, ached, complained some more, complained about all the complaining, cursed my stupid tooth for still making eating normal food a challenge, complained that my ears are stopped up, whined that I'm achey, whined that my stomach is icky from the antibiotics, whined that I can't sleep, blah, blah, freakin' blah......

Oh, the JOY I've been to live with! It's a miracle that I haven't been propelled off a cliff by my loving family.

Thankfully, I think the worst is over (knocking on.. well, I'm looking around and there is no wood in my sewing studio. Hm.. Oh! The trim on the window! Crisis averted!).

Today will be the first day of the rest of my life as a less whiney person!

(I know! I'm so motivational, I should have a book.)

I'll bet that Tina Turner doesn't get sick. Virus bugs probably look at her and say, "I'm not going near that! She'll kick my ass" and turn tail and go and infect someone less fierce.