sicky sicky boom boom

It's Sunday and I'm sick. This happens to me every year right about this time. Doctors have told me year after year that I should really think about getting my tonsils removed to spare me the agony of my annual battle with streptococcus. I thought, after moving to Arizona where the weather is perpetually mild and the change in seasons barely perceptible, that I might not get it this year. But of course, I was wrong. And, this has to come during the week where I have a million and one important things to do for work all of which require me to walk and talk and generally not snot or cry on people.

So here I am sitting inside on an absolutely beautiful, sunny Sunday huddled up in a ball on the couch with my purple blankey, vaporizer at my head, hot tea in my mug and cough drop wrappers artfully flung on the carpet around me. I am yearning for the Mustard Seed's Throat Soother tea. It is the only thing that I've found to provide any actual relief from swollen glands and a burning esophogas. So far today I've tried Chamomile, Yerba Mate, Herbal Mint, Echinachea, and Passion Fruit tea. It's weird but I really don't believe that Phenol, Menthol or Benzocain or even Airborne (now in Pink Grapefruit!) can provide the same kind of relief that Mullien, Slippery Elm and Marshmallow root does when brewed together in a steaming cup of tea.

In seeking relief, I've also been sucking on popsicles left and right and was aghast to find out the changes that have been made over at the Fudgesicle Plant (that's pronounced fudgeSicle, not fudgeIcle). It used to be that the original Fudgesicle was shaped in the classical form with rounded corners and two grooves on each side to catch the melt-off. I more than a little disheartened to find that the Fudgesicle has now been reduced to a ridged, rectangular chocolate box on a stick neither curvy nor groovy. It still tastes just as luscious and lovely but it's really not as pretty or ergonomically conducive to licking.

And, to top all off I've got the woman's curse and I don't get to go to the Galactic concert I've been looking forward to all week. It's positively been ages since I've seen any good live music and in my emotional and feverish condition I'm just about ready to cry about it.

Is that enough self-pity to top off your weekend? I promise a much sunnier disposition and a brand new Cactus-of-the-Week tomorrow.