Sick in Bed, Day 4: I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm smelling a little ripe. On the upside, after so many days of not showering, my hair has never been better conditioned. I can't really say how Steve feels about it, though I'm sure he appreciates my well-conditioned hair.
I don't know if everyone is like this, but I just don't want to shower when I'm sick. It feels like too much effort, and I sometimes fear that I will pass out under the hot water.
When I was 18 I finally had my tonsils out (once my father was told by a fellow doctor that since I had had strep so many times, my tonsils were basically strep-filled scar tissue that permanently looked like cotton balls). It took two weeks for me to heal fully after the surgery, and I am sorry to report that during this time I neither showered nor brushed my teeth. I had a good excuse: it hurt to open my mouth...but still.
Toward the end of my reign as Stink-Bomb, I was talking rather animatedly to my father, and he asked me, quite diplomatically I thought, if I planned on brushing my teeth any time soon. I replied in the negative, after which my father informed me that my breath was very "strong". Strong....I'm sure that was putting it mildly. I had about an inch of fur on my teeth, I'm sure toxic was more like it. It must have taken every ounce of my parents' strength not to knock me out and douse me in a vat of Clorox.
As I imagine Steve must want to do now. Luckily I think he has a rather poor sense of smell, which is probably why he can still stand to be in the same room with me. Well, that, and my charming personality. And my super-conditioned hair.
Wine recommendations starting again next week...I promise.
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