Yes, you read that right. I really and truly did nothing this weekend. I saw a movie Friday night, then crashed and didn't get out of bed until one on Saturday. ONE. Approximately 5 hours later than I normally get up. The only reason I even got up was because the football games had infiltrated my living room at full volume, replete with commentary and coaching from the couch, and I couldn't take it. I escaped to a non-football house, curled up on the sofa, and fell asleep to XXX. I know. I fell asleep to Vin Diesel. You know I'm tired when I can't even stay awake to drool. Napped all day, barely made it thru dinner before passing out again, slept all night, and awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed on Sunday.

The good news: I'm much, much better. It's nice that the pharmacutical industry knows what it's doing. Yay, drugs!

The bad news: Those bronchials are still pissed, just less often but with more vigor.

Every cough sounds like I'm dying (no, really) and this time, I feel like it. What came before was just the warm-up for the grand finale; I missed 2 hours of Angel last night because I was coughing so loudly.

Seriously. Don't laugh. It wouldn't stop...it's like the hiccups. You can't make it stop, no matter what you try.