So far my vacation in Scotland hasn’t exactly been what I expected. Those colds that Krista and I were nursing in Paris turned into something far worse. We should have stayed confined to the flat for the whole trip, but we were brave (or stupid) and attempted a few jail breaks. Finally, the bronchiotitus trapped within us flared its ugly head, causing us to go into hiding. Take this blog post as a plea for help should the illness not abate in time for our plane ride back to Paris.
I’m calling this virus bronchiotitus because the first time I tried to type “bronchitis” in an IM it resembled something like bronchiosaurus. The receiver of the IM may or may not have thought I was being plagued by a prehistoric vertebrate instead of an illness. Let’s blame that misspelling on the foggy state of my sickness and not my otherwise poor spelling skills. Plus we haven’t had the virus confirmed by a medical professional so I’ll name whatever is currently plaguing my lungs and brain and sinus passages and making my eyeballs hurt after the great big dinosaur that is most likely rumbling around in my chest and sneezing into my brain and causing all this misery.
(Whew, almost but not quite a run-on sentence.)
|The monster inside.|
Anyway, now you know what I’m dealing with and if you receive any peculiarly worded IMs or run-on sentences in your emails, blame it on the medecine and that cute little guy in the picture.