I Feel Like Poo...

My fucking throat is killing me. I think I have a fever, but haven't checked yet. My body is sore. My nose is running perpetually. Bleh.

All this, and we're going to Puerto Rico in four days. Shit. So that means that I have to get better. It's imperative. Not to mention that I have a load of shit to do at work before I can skip out of town for a week and a half, and calling out today just throws a big 'ole fucking monkey wrench in my plans of getting so much done there today. I also have to avoid my husband so I don't get him sick. Usually, I would relish a valid avoidance, but unfortunately, when I get sick, I get all clingy and whiney and actually want him around.

Zube Boy: Honey.

Zube Girl: Uuuuuhhhhhhhn. *Cough*

ZB: Do you still feel shitty?

ZG: Mmmm hmmmm. *Sniff*

ZB: I'm sorry sillypants.

ZG: It sucks hundies.

ZB: Do you want some tea with honey?

ZG: Yes, please.

*Brings me tea*

ZB: Here. Does your throat hurt?

ZG: Yeah. It's fucking killing me.

ZB: I hear blow jobs can cure that.

ZG: Whatever. Have fun at work.

ZB: No kissy for you, so I'll have to blow you one. *Mwah*

ZG: *Mwah*

ZB: Feel better.