Each time I tell myself I'm going to beat it. I spray that Zicam stuff in my mouth like it's binaca. I pop vitamin C and drink so much juice I spend most of my day in the bathroom.
But I never beat it. I simply prolong the inevitable.
So when I woke up on Wednesday with that gross guy from the Mucinex commercials climbing around my throat, I knew the latter half of my week was shot.
I powered through Wednesday & 1/2 of Thursday before giving in and spending my days destroying my poor nose with Target-brand tissues and catching up on the latest happenings in Port Charles (net-net: Sonny is back with Brenda, the Quartermaines are old, and Jason still wears the same leather jacket).
Please watch. Someone took the time to make this.
Anyway, thanks to 12 hours of sleep per night and the aforementioned vitamin C regimen, I was at about 80% by Saturday. Good thing because I was not about to miss dinner at one of my oldest friends (the girl can cook) and a Sunday brunch with the girls.
Beautiful hostess.
One of my favorite couples ever.
This guy can grill a steak.
In an attempt to counterbalance the prior evening's gluttony, I went healthy for brunch.
The weekend made a comeback. The Mucinex guy is almost gone. I suppose I'm ready for Monday.
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