I’m sick. This does not happen very often. Which is a good thing because it reduces me to a sniffling infant wishing for the sweet release of death, or at least for my mom to come back to life and take care of me. In conclusion, waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. (Yes, I am a bigger baby about this than I was about my burned hand.)
I hear you. I’ve been sick for about ten weeks now. Three courses of antibiotics and I still have to squirt this cold gunk in my ears, but hey, it gets better. Get better!
Ten weeks?! Oh, man, I’m sorry to hear that. Sounds like you’ve got one of those drug-resistant bugs. You’re ahead of me in the “Get Better” line!
Nah, it’s just that I’ve got severe asthma and an immune system that seems to be made of cheese and asphalt sweat. I’m pretty used to being sick, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I deplore it in others.
Also: are those bay leaves under the armadillo bones?
I’m pretty sure they’re just live oak leaves. The photo was taken in an oak hammock area.