Sniffle
Today I went from being really,really sick to just half-sick. My ears are still ringing, but today, if you call me, you will hear someone that sounds like Lynda on Steroids instead of the wicked witch of the West (you know...I will get you Dorothy and your little dog Todo too!" ). I have been suffering from the bronchitis from hell and I’m still coughing like a maniac.
I hate being sick. I hate not being able to walk into a super all night pharmacy with 37 isles of cold medicine and 56 flavours of cough syrup, plus cheap DVD's and Fiddle Daddle to see you through several days in bed tucked in with Puffs Plus extra soft Kleenex. Being sick in Italy means I am stuck with the well intentioned "Omeopatico" belladonna drops delivered by a bella ragazzo that not only give me the hives but which must also be drunk with copious amounts of Tisana. I think I actually heard myself slosh when I walked down the hallway a few minutes ago.
Something tells me though that I’m going to be paying for my stubbornness though....however will I ever get my North American body to accept (read - trust) Italian cures if I do not at least open my mind to the possibility that one of them might actually work and that the erboristeria really and truly isn't an Italian cousin of the Wild West's Doc Johnson Snake Oil salesmen.
It sucks being sick. Being sick and alone while all your friends go out and have thanksgiving turkey is even worse.
Poor me. Boo. Hoo. I feel a pity party coming on. Dishevelled Redhead in Monti goes on a belladonna strike. Better dead than a woman with water retention.
I hate being sick. I hate not being able to walk into a super all night pharmacy with 37 isles of cold medicine and 56 flavours of cough syrup, plus cheap DVD's and Fiddle Daddle to see you through several days in bed tucked in with Puffs Plus extra soft Kleenex. Being sick in Italy means I am stuck with the well intentioned "Omeopatico" belladonna drops delivered by a bella ragazzo that not only give me the hives but which must also be drunk with copious amounts of Tisana. I think I actually heard myself slosh when I walked down the hallway a few minutes ago.
Something tells me though that I’m going to be paying for my stubbornness though....however will I ever get my North American body to accept (read - trust) Italian cures if I do not at least open my mind to the possibility that one of them might actually work and that the erboristeria really and truly isn't an Italian cousin of the Wild West's Doc Johnson Snake Oil salesmen.
It sucks being sick. Being sick and alone while all your friends go out and have thanksgiving turkey is even worse.
Poor me. Boo. Hoo. I feel a pity party coming on. Dishevelled Redhead in Monti goes on a belladonna strike. Better dead than a woman with water retention.
1 Comments:
Because Lynda needs to slow down from time to time... Be still for a second. Accept that your body is telling you that you need to slow down - and Lynda needs to let her mind accept that all she needs to do is to make a phone call - friends will bring the medicine. And the world will be fine when you take a moment to sleep...
But you still throw a great party get together, celebrating your friends, rather then your birthday in all of your zen humility. We love you.
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