Oh Crud, It's Coming

My eyes are turning into leaky faucets, my nose has developed tear ducts, and this brick on my head has more than clouded my judgment. Oh no, it's coming. No doubt contracted by these shopping cart licking, Supermarket Touching Syndrome dust bunnies called children that are floating around the house. I hardly ever get sick. Ever. My mouth is hanging agape because I can't breath through my nose. While I'm slumped in a chair, Aj, out of the blue, asks me where is the best place to search for gold. Talk about random. Do I look like I want to even think about that? At the moment, I could care less. Clearly, we need to discuss sympathy. And what makes being sick even worse is that I don't like taking medicine. Ok, I hardly ever take medicine. What exactly is this feel good drug that I should pump into my bloodstream. If you can cook it up and sell it on the street, it is not for me. We take a pill for everything now, even the tiniest of headaches. If you can't handle a little headache... what are you going to do when life knocks you down? I'll stick to my chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. Oh and a few good movies when the boogers are down for the night. This only means that more than likely they'll be watching me because I won't be able to function. At least not until tomorrow morning, when motherhood calls again. Isn't it wierd how men turn into little babies when they're sick but women turn into super heros?