"This is what you want, This is what you get...." -PIL

Once upon a time, boys and girls, there was a small, infectious particle. It was a lonely particle, and it drifted on the breeze, nary a friend in the cold, cruel world. One day, the little germ at last found a warm home in the lush bronchial flesh of a woman who was working in her garden. There, he found, at last, a friend. Her name was pollen, and pretty pollen was an allergen - spawned of a lovely and delicate blossom.

Together, Pollen and Germ made a happy little home amongst the gently waving cilia of the respiratory tract. Before you could say BobsYerUncle, they had multiplied into a growing family. Times were good, the weather was hot and dry, and before long they had their own little stream flowing through the property. It was a lovely stream, fetid and sticky, and it flowed from the streaming Phlegm River at the sinuses all the way down to the alveoli, where it joined with other streams to form the rippling waters of Lake Mucus.

So happy were Pollen and Germ, and all of their many progeny, that they dug in and decided that THIS! this is where they would forever rest, and allow the future generations to rise up and populate this paradise they had discovered.

So, like, yeah. I'm sick. Really, disgustingly, Darth-Vader-wheezes, fevers of 101.1, coughing that makes other people wince, and more phlegm than I care to ponder - sick. After much protesting and dragging of my feet (because for some insane reason I don't want to go to the doctor, even though I do know that is insane) I finally have an appointment this afternoon with the family physician. He's going to poke, prod, listen, and nod, and then either tell me I'm a big pansy and I need more fluids and rest (which would actually be the preferable outcome in my mind) or he's going to say that I have bronchitis and possibly some rogue bacterial infection which will require that I add a prescription for heavy antibiotics to my already ridiculous personal pharmacy.

But, my friends, do you want to know what love is? Love is when your Mommy-in-Law cancels her whole day - manicure, yoga, and other delicious feminine delights - in order to come over and rescue you. She came in with an armload of groceries and toys for the kids, and put me expeditiously to bed. She made homemade fried chicken and green bean casserole, and left me with mashed potatoes to warm and a big bowl of fresh-cut fruits for dinner. She brought 4 kinds of soup and a big loaf of crusty french bread. Also, she kept Jack content and quiet while I crashed out for a solid couple hours' sleep, shivering under my blanket while the fever ravaged my system.

The nasty bug may still rage, but that was quite possibly the best nap I have ever taken in my life. Plus? She didn't bat an eye when I burst into exhausted tears and said "I'm so glad you're here" as she came through the door. She put me to bed, and when I woke up... everything was just fine. More than fine, actually.

So being sick REALLY sucks. But being rescued when you think you're about to die of exhaustion and drown in your own phlegm? That really rocks.

It rocks even more with some homemade fried chicken.