I am tired of coughing.
I am tired of blowing my nose.
I am tired of Kelly coughing, blowing his nose and snoring because he can’t breathe. (I’m quite certain that I am not snoring, of course, and I wouldn’t believe you if I said I was.)
Last night, I pulled out the good stuff: leftover prescription cough syrup from last year’s bout with the flu. Thick, potent and covered with warnings about how it will knock you out. Frankly, I’m surprised it didn’t have a label that read:
Let me say that again: whatever, whatever, whatever.