The 23 Psa*coughhackwheezehackhack*lm

[xiphias]

A psalm of the sickbed. The Nyquil is my shephard, I shall not cough.
It maketh me to line down in warm blankets, it leadeth me to the still waters of the toilet if I have to puke.
It restoreth my soul; it guideth me along straightish paths to the kitchen with only some wobbling and smashing into walls.
Yea, though I walk through the shadow of the valley of the Creeping Crud which is hitting, like, half the people on my friends list, I will fear no virus, for thou are with me; thy Tylenol and thy Benadryl, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a bed-tray before me in the presence of the virus (although I can't eat much on it); my Cup-O-Soup runneth over (I'll clean that up later.)
Surely goodness and health shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall get out of this frickin' house some time before Sunday when I have to teach Hebrew school.

(Actually, so far, I've not had nausea. Knock on wood.)

Comments

[linenoise.livejournal.com]

I have a variation on that one, although so far, all of my symptoms are above my shoulders. Throat, nose, sinus, headache, and absolutely no brain.

Virus ate my brain.