...no. Not a rant, not a pity-me-depression, none of that. Just me. Recovering, somewhat, from the flu. Throat still feels lava-burnt, the frequent hacking cough is really sucking, and if my ears get much more painful I'm going to have to see a doctor, if I can FIND one. No responses yet, time for the next round of call-the-idiots (as opposed to this week's round of email-the-idiots).

Tired.

Not able to sleep, though. If I lay down right now, I stop breathing and end up coughing my lungs out for a good 10 minutes at a stretch. No fun.

Three am...

...it's 5:41 where you are, kitten.

*curls up, eyeing the remains of a jar of cough medication which is only temporarily slaking her thirst for a pain-free day*

It's at these moments, wanting to rest, not fully conscious, sore and hurting and worried, that I end up remembering all the bullshit, all the little stresses, all the hundred things that make my life just that little bit less pleasant.

I wish I had something stronger than cold medication and alcohol, at times like this.

I wish I had my boys, here, now.

I wish I had painkillers that WORKED.

I wish it would stop being 3:00 in the morning.