My miserably brief attempt at hypochondria is over. I should have gotten a clue when I couldn't even spell the word let alone tell the difference between 'hypo-chondria' and hyper-chondria'. For the record there is no such thing as 'hyper-chondria' although I would imagine it would be the opposite of hypochondria, the denial of having any ailment at all, or something to that effect.
My condition: a mild chest cold (cough, cough!) complicated by allergies (ahhhh-chooo!) After a very rough night and morning without the TLC of either Dickidoo or Dr. Bones McCoy, I eventually recovered. My survival is owed no doubt to an overdose of Mucinex and a gallon or more of ice water that came out almost as fast as it went in.
Rocky and the guys are at the Melee in the Park. Becca is competing in the district strings competition. I spent the day home being sick. I always tell people and I quote: "You can't get well until you allow yourself to be sick." Today, in a rare case that should probably be marked on some calendar somewhere, I took my own advice. I called in off work in advance last night and slept in. My face still feels like it was hit across the cheeks by a 2x4, but for the most part I feel tons better.
I'll bet Art's Ghostrider Chili had a lot to do with it as well. That's some gooooooooood stuff!
Not much on TV today. I kind of surf the news, forensic and food channels. Everything on the major stations have something to do with the presidential election. All the mudslinging, flip-flopping and campaign promises (not to be confused with REAL promises) bore me. The candidates sound more like beauty pagent contestants than presidential hopefuls. I amuse myself by adding 'And if elected I promise to bring World Peace.' to the end of every speech.
I'm thinking Barrak would win the bathingsuit competition but Hillary will take the talent competition by acting like she really likes her opponent. McCain will have to settle for Mr Congeniality. Huckabee who? Isn't he that little blue hound dog from Hanna-Barbera?