I slept on the couch last night. The last straggling remnants of The Plague (I've taken to calling it the Vegas Strain) augmented The Husband's snoring to epic levels. A whole room away I could still here him. I was probably doing some record breaking myself, but since I'm the one it bothers, I was the one who moved. This morning I woke up, hacked and coughed for a while and then blew my nose.
This is the TMI part. Those of you of delicate disposition, just look at the cute kitten.
Blood always looks more interesting when it's mixed with green snot. It's even more interesting when you keep blowing clots of the mixture from your nose so that you KNOW this stuff is PILED UP IN YOUR HEAD. It's in there, leaching away from your brain. That's why you feel so stupid as you stare at it.
And then your nose bleed starts in earnest. Glory. Yay.
Ok, all you shrinking violets, it's safe now.
I've just brought Ophelia home from the vet. Her sugars are elevated, of course, and she has to start insulin again, but there will be much monitoring going on. Ah, yes, monitoring. Just what every cat loves, to have every meal and bowl movement monitored. But she's going to stabilize soon. She's certain ACTING like her usual snarky self. It took me five minutes to get her into the carrier, and I had to spontaneously grow an extra arm to do it. I have a cold. It's not easy popping those spare limbs out when I have a cold.
I actually had some other thoughts today, but I can't remember what they were, although while I was thinking them they seemed very deep and relevant, and even a little wise. I'm pretty sure they had nothing to do with the bloodsnot.
Oops. Sorry, delicate people. But, really, you should be used to it by now.