I think I must have finally hit upon just the right cocktail of over-the-counter palliatives. I'm pretty sure I probably overdosed a tad on the dextromethorphan, because when I got up this morning I was feeling very... umm... smooooove. But the coughing was much less severe. 'Bout time.
Isaac's still sick, and now Martha has spiked a fever -- my child who is NEVER sick. And oh MAN is she a Drama Queen Deluxe when she's sick. Moans, wailing, weeping... grandiose catastrophe all around. While I was at my audition tonight, my phone rings:
"My HEAD is just POUNDING and FEELS like it's CRUSHING IN on me!!" she sobs.
"That's called a headache, Martha. I get them quite often. Go to the cabinet in the hallway," I direct her.
"I can't get off the COUCH!" she moans.
"Get up and cut it out, Martha," I say. "Open the middle door. Do you see a bottle with 'n-a-p-r-o-x-e-n' written on it?"
"Open that bottle."
"I CAN'T! It's TOO HARD!"
"Martha! Get a grip! Line up the little arrows and use your thumb to pop the lid."
"Is it open?" I ask.
"YES!" she howls.
"Take out two blue pills and put the lid back on. That's what you can take to help your headache go away."
"But how can I get a DRINK? I can barely WALK!!!"
I grit my teeth. "Get in the kitchen and get a drink, for Pete's sake. You are TWELVE YEARS OLD."