The Wall

I am still sick. And now? Post-BlogHer? I'm sicker. Yep. You read me right. There's an -er at the end of that last word.

I have been coughing like a motherfrakker since July 11th. Yes, I've been keeping track of this round of the plague thankyouverymuch. When you can sit in front of 12 straight hours of the Discovery Health channel and call that a fun Saturday, keeping track of how many days you've been sick is just a natural extension of said hobby.

When I stepped into the Atlanta airport last Thursday, I felt sorry for everyone on my plane to Midway because I figured we'd all be quarantined by the end of the flight. Even though I knew I was no longer contagious, no one else knew it. With my juicy, wet coughs, I expected someone to jump up and scream SWINE FLU!!!! and the gig would be up. But that didn't happen. So, my "feelin' pretty good except for the nagging emphysema" ass made it to BlogHer and had a great time.

When I got home Sunday, I was fine, just tired.

Yesterday? Oh, yesterday was special. As I drove north to Dawsonville to retrieve kids, I began to feel progressively worse. My ribs hurt from 16 days of coughing, I couldn't breath out of my nose, and all I wanted to do was get horizontal and sleep. And sleep I did. I finally gave in, called the Ty-man and said, Come home now because in two hours you're going to enter a scene of indescribable horror with me passed out on the floor and the kids gleefully dancing on my lifeless body. As soon as he arrived, I checked out.

For four hours.

And I'm still dragging.

So, pardon me as I make my third summer trip to the doctor and swear off BlogHer conferences forever. Obviously, I'm allergic. And unless someone organizes a BlogHim as a sort of antidote? I will never go near large gatherings of SQUEEEEEEE-ing women packed together like sardines in downtown hotels for the rest of my life.