I’ve been fighting off this beast for over a week. Drinking orange juice, keeping hydrated, making quantities of homemade soup… I thought I was ahead of the curve, until yesterday.
That’s when it hit the fan. Everything (and I do mean everything) aches. Ear, nose, throat. Dry cough (the pits). I can’t take Nyquil because it’s a lot like being on speed (not that I’ve taken it, you understand). Benedryl’s the same—eyeballs popping around, wide awake all night long, and when morning comes I’m a dessicated hunk of misery.
Then the ocular migraine hit. It’s like this, exactly like this.
So forget reading or watching TV.
I can barely see clearly enough to type, so…
Cats, Little Miss Mayhem specifically.
About Nya Rawlyns
Nya Rawlyns doesn’t write typical romance. She writes emotion as a contact sport, rough and often raw. It need not be pleasant, heart-warming or forever after. What she seeks is what lies beneath—a dance of extremes, the intersect of need and desire, and the compromises we make when pain and pleasure become indistinguishable. ***** She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. ***** When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or three pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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