Internet, I don't feel good. I feel horrible, and I've been whining about it for over two days, so it's about time you got to join in on the "fun." My back is KILLING me (seriously, I've asked Whit to take an axe to it, and also wanted to get out on the turnpike so someone could run over me rather than continuing the back-breaking ride in the car), my nose is running, I can't stop sneezing, and recently I've felt nauseated.
We went to Kingfisher yesterday to partake in some Eischen's (not even back pain is going to keep me from fried chicken, dill pickles and beer), and we all stayed with the fam. This morning, I made a really good breakfast for my entire family. I'm only telling you this because I ONLY JUST REALIZED I COULD BE COMING DOWN WITH THE FLU. For everyone who has had my cooking in the past twenty-four hours (Whitters, Henry, Mom, Kenneth, Seth, Henry, Gallagher, Chester and Grant): YOU'RE WELCOME FOR THE KICKASS FOOD AND I'M REAL SORRY ABOUT THE HORRIBLE SICKNESS THAT MIGHT BE COMING YOUR WAY.
But maybe it's not the flu. I've been having some back problems lately, but they've gone away. This is persistent and awful and I just asked Whit if she would get me some Nyquil to pour into my red wine. Deep down, you know how good that sounds. I also asked my mom for an epidural, and she demurred. Oh well. I'm going to finish this bottle of wine, lie on my back on the flat floor and make people wait on me.
Tomorrow, we're doing housecleaning and working on organizing the garage and putting up Christmas lights. I must be a masochist. BUT if someone wants to come over with some Nyquil for my orange juice, I won't complain. That doesn't mean I'll stop whining.