Looks like there's a name for this particular beastie I've got—"bronchitis." Eeeeeewwwww. Explains that little problem with breathing I've been having lately. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow morning to get this confirmed, but I've had this so many times that I think I can predict what he's going to say even before I fork over the cashola.

I'm a terrible patient. I know this. I deny being ill until I'm virtually dead on my feet (would anyone who has physically seen me in the past 48 hours please shut up already?). I dragged myself to work on Tuesday (4 hours) and today (5) and I'm wondering if I should just give up and not even bother going in tomorrow morning after my doctor's appointment.I suspect my co-workers will be relieved if I decide that.

So it's Tuesday. So I go to work, since I didn't drag in on Monday, and by 1:00 my supervisor's looking at me and making warding signs and muttering things like, "Ames, you sound like hell. Why don't you go home and….sleep? or something like that?" With the implied statement, "We don't want your germs, would you please take them home?"

Andy-the-sysadmin was a bit less tactful: "You are breathing in my office. Go away!" Sooooo….unloved and germ-laden, here I am at home, hackcoughwheezing into my keyboard and wondering if you can pop stuffed-up ears with anything except surgical instruments…Bah, I say.

So, you ask, why aren't you lying on the couch, sleeping? Gee, it couldn't possibly be the two cats who, upon seeing me come in the door several hours early, both thought at the same time: "YEAH! Extended petting session on the couch right NOW!" *stomp stomp knead knead PURR!*

Brats. :)

Yes. I have now seen the tackiness that is New Orleans. Good grief, what heavy food they've got there. I have to agree with Jen, who commented on the total lack of vegetable matter being served at every meal we had there.

Jackson Square?
at East Bank, New Orleans, Louisiana, United States by domesticat.
(full photoset is on flickr)