I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I used to hear my Dad say that every now and then. I'm pretty sure someone said it before him. Well I'm saying it now.
I've had this cold since Saturday and I'm done with it. No, I'm not really over it. I'm still sick. But I'm sick of it.
It's like this never-ending barrage of sneezes and coughs and headaches and bruised ribs. That's right, I said bruised ribs. When you cough ceaselessly with enough force, you can cause some pretty substantial damage to your ribcage. It's not fun. Once I had bronchitis and cracked a rib. The doctor said ribs are about as sturdy as an aluminum can. True story.
In other true stories, today is Nicole's birthday. Being the gentleman that I am, I will not publish her age. I'm sure she's having a swell time celebrating in the Magic Kingdom or Epcot or somewhere else equally lame. Meanwhile I'm celebrating her birthday with overcast skies, chest congestion, and clogged sinuses. Good times had by all.
Seriously though, happy birthday to Nicole. Say hey to Mickey.