Door jam

I'm still here, hanging out in death's door. Yesterday and today, I felt that just crossing the threshold would be a relief. You know you're sick when dying sounds good.

I've had to stop talking because it makes me cough. This has led to gesturing that is not always polite. Poor husband. And when I want his attention I bang on something. I am the absolutely worst sick person ever. I don't mean I'm the most sick, I mean I'm just bad at it. And I used to think I was tough. I'm a wuss.

For some reason, all I can think about for two days is going to On The Border, eating chips and salsa, and ordering my favorite Chicken Fiesta Salad. I think it's because I know I can taste those things. But it would probably not be any fun to go there and cough and hack my way through a meal. I wonder if I can convince R to order take out for me. Hmm.....what gesture would best convey that? Probably not the ones I've been using.

That's it for now. Typing is exhausting.