Late Sunday morning Matt and I made a trip to Lowe's so he could buy some lumber. He had big plans to spend the afternoon making a picnic table and I have to admit, I admire someone with that kind of ambition for a Sunday afternoon. My goals for the day included painting my nails and taking a nap.
Well, we were standing in the middle of the lumber department when I felt my throat start to close.
I sat in the car while Matt loaded the lumber and wished away my swollen glands. While Matt has big dreams of owning an F-350, he currently owns a smallish sedan that is very practical, but not made for hauling lumber. So once he finally got everything loaded in, we had to drive home with the trunk open and a giant orange flag blowing in the wind and alerting other drivers to the contents of our trunk.
It was very sleek.
We made it home safely, and I laid down on the couch where I spent the next eight hours falling in and out of sleep and hoping that my family writes a good obituary because surely, this was the end.
Meanwhile, Matt spent his afternoon on the patio and check out the results.
Now that is impressive.
Long story short, I went to the doctor on Monday and next year, I will be getting a flu shot. Matt had a dentist appointment Monday night, and when he came home his mouth was so sore that he couldn't chew. Combine that with my sore throat and inability to swallow, we were looking at a dinner consisting solely of liquids.
Also known as, suppertime at the nursing home.
At least we have a nice table where we can sit together to sip our broth.