My cold has moved on to the coughing stage. At least I can breathe through my nose again, but I almost slept on the sofa last night because I coughed so much and was shaking the bed. I took some bad ass cold medicine this evening and it seems to be helping a bit, but I'm still coughing a lot. Today is the first day I've put on fresh clothes since Christmas day, if that gives any hints as to my general health. I've been wearing all my Christmas presents at once, so I have on my Green Bay Packers tuke (because it has a big G on it for Genie) and sapphire earrings from the Puddin' mixed with my Homer Simpson "I am so smrt" sweatshirt from the Puddin's brother Lee. Were it not for the glitter of jewelry, I would look like a dock worker on break (complete with hacking cough). Stanley the beagle houseguest goes home tomorrow. He's been a good dog and fine company to have on the sofa while vegetating in my weakened state, but I won't miss the constant barrage of dog farts he unleashes each evening. It makes me hesitate to shop for a second dog again because there are so many gambles that our new dog might be flatulent or bark a lot or be scared of the toaster or any of the other random quirky things that our pets have had over the years. I'm sure we'll know when the time is right.
Mom goes in at 6am tomorrow to get her implantable cardiac defibrillator (ICD) installed and hypothetically should be out by noon. She technically has had congestive heart failure for the last five years, but she takes medicine and as a rule doesn't let it get her down. According to her doctor, the ICD is just a precaution and she shouldn't have any complications from it. It's hard to watch the people you love get old but since Mom is still working and Dad is still climbing trees I'd say they're getting along fine.