There is something about being sick that makes me wax poetic. I want to describe every ache and every pain and try to use words to make it possible for those not afflicted with my particular disease to understand exactly how I feel. I know that you probably don't care dear reader, and I can't say as I blame you, but it is a need I feel nevertheless.
I am stifling that need for your sake.
Suffice it to say I feel miserable in about 12 different ways and I wish a very painful death to every flu virus, ever.
Cora and Chloe went shopping. We needed to replenish some of our food stores and, well, I don't feel up to much past staggering down the hall. I have been running a fever, which, for some reason, I was unaware or had forgotten that whenever I have a fever, my skin feels particularly sensitive and I feel cold. This is not as pleasant as you might think.
I'll let you off easy. Here are some pictures.