In the realm of life throwing curveballs, after three days of Cooter coughing and it not sounding any better, I took him to the doctor.  I’m not very good at hearing where the congestion is, and I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t worse than what I thought.

Sure enough, it’s not.  A viral infection, gotta work its way out on its own, five to ten days (are you kidding me?), continue as we have been–fluids and rest.

Gotcha.  We can do that.

On the way home, Cooter announced from the back seat that we needed to do something about “cooking” his throat.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, the doctor said my throat is raw, and raw things must be cooked thoroughly.”

Ah yes.  My son, the literalist.

In totally unrelated (okay, so maybe related a little bit) news, all afternoon long Elvis’ “Fever” has played in my head.  And here’s all I’ve got to say about that–

Are you kidding me?

If anyone, the Fella included, made me feel the way I do when I’m running a fever, I’d get out of there so fast, it would make your head spin.

How on earth did “Fever” become a desired thing to feel like you were having?

“…..what a lovely way to burn…..”

I love Elvis and a lot of the other folks who sang the song, but seriously?


Tonight I’m thankful for Cooter who keeps me laughing and our Princess who is feeling better.  I’m also very thankful for the way it feels not to have a fever.  Finally.

Y’all stay well.  This stuff is a hot mess.

Love to all.

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