Well, 2016 decided to give me a farewell gift of influenza (now morphing into bronchitis per my doctor.) How thoughtful . . . and in character. New Year’s Eve was curled in the fetal position on my mom’s couch or in the guest bedroom. Instead of libations and toasts, I celebrated with fever and ague. How very Laura Ingalls of me.
Super Hero Shawn has been taking care of all the things, even packing up Christmas. There are not enough emojis to do that man justice.
Thanks to modern technology I was able to enjoy my SEVEN HOUR wait to see someone at urgent care at home. They send a text when your 20 minutes out for a wait. If I was more coherent, I would wax poetic about how amazing this is.
Now I’m patiently waiting for the pharmacist to fulfill my drug cocktail so I can properly toast to New Year. 2017, I’m so glad you’re here.