My Apologies, I'm Whining

I'm suffering from some form of the plague.

The kind that sucks out all your energy and replaces it with copious amounts of snot to drip out your nasal cavities.

I don't have any kleenex. And I just discovered there is no more toilet paper other than the six sheets left on the roll in the main bathroom.

I may have to resort to wiping my boogers on my sleeve or stuffing tampons up my nostrils. With my luck though, the cotton will expand and shoot out my ears, thereby pushing out what little brains I have and leaving me a lifeless, snotty zombie who drools on the couch, tugging at the string hanging from her nose.

Good times.

Please excuse me today, while I look for surfaces to wipe my mucus on. I'm thinking my husband's pillow case looks mighty soft right now.

(There may be some slight passive aggressive tendencies I don't really want to explore too deeply in that last sentence. Must stem from him being healthy and alone, while I'm slowly and painfully dying from some unknown rare disease while single handedly being responsible for the survival of his children.)

I'll be back when my snot dries up. Or when I muster enough energy to drive to the store and beg the pharmacist to supply me with decongestants and kleenex. And maybe some buttwipe.

You never know when you are going to need more than six squares after all.

That's a scenario no one wants to live through.

Feel free to entertain yourselves in the comments. Better yet, join me in my woes. Whine. Tell me your troubles. I can't be the only gal out here in blogland whining, or at least wanting to whine. Spill it. What's your beef?

Or you could just send me pictures of yourselves. Preferably clothed. But beggars can't be choosers.