New Year Old Flu

Day 10 of this sickness finds me hoarding (can one hoard an individual item?) my last Mucinex tablet like a spy with a cyanide capsule encased in her tooth. Things might get worse, and I don't want to risk taking it too early. In Minnesota we stoic types claim never to get sick. But when we do, oh boy look out.

I am in mourning for all of the vacation days I took in vain. Little did I know that sick days would have sufficed as the Holiday Flu hit practically our entire office. Since Christmas my pharmacist and I have gotten cozy. Now I've got medicine from over the counter, under the counter, and around the counter. I can make chicken soup blindfolded and in the dark. I survive on heavy doses of Emergen-C. Mostly I just want to nap on the couch with Hoda and Kathie Lee for company in the morning, Roseanne reruns in the afternoon, and warm cats snuggling with me under the blankets.

Over at Called to the Table today is an exploration of the Italian sandwich Hot Dago, and a bit of a puzzle over how the tasty sandwich received such an inflammatory name. I am anticipating the return of my taste buds and looking forward to making another batch of John's Grandma's Hot Dagos.