Cherry NyQuil is one of the most vile concoctions made by man. It is cruel to do that to a desperate sick person. The regular nasty flavor is bad, but nowhere near the level of hell that is the cherry flavor. Of course cherry was all I had. Of course.
An 8 year-old can be surprisingly tyrannical when he believes he is the boss. He can also make toast and microwave burritos and Lean Pockets meals for his minions, er, siblings.
Bathroom trash cans fill up and overflow amazingly fast when mom is down for five days. Gross.
Chloraseptic throat spray is a kind, kind thing. Swallowing felt like gargling glass and shrapnel, and the spray let me at least drink some water without, literally, crying.
Eventually your kids will get tired of cartoons. I never thought it was possible, but given enough TV time, they do eventually opt out and actually go play.
Four boxes of Kleenex is not enough for five days of sick. Again, surprise.
My mailbox only holds three days of mail, or so says the mailman when he has to knock on my door, all annoyed. Sorry dude, but I wasn’t going to leave the house in my pink thermal moose jammies.
Today was the first day I got up, cleaned up, and got dressed. I’m fooling myself, but at least I don’t look like death warmed-over. When I got up, I fixed the kids french toast and was determined to have a normal day, but breakfast was as far as I got. Then I collapsed and slept for two hours. (non-school child was safe at a friends, don’t worry)
I did run to the drugstore for normal, nasty NyQuil. The cherry is gone, and now I can justify it. Even thinking about it gives me the rolling gleets.