Sick Of Being Sick

I can't sleep. the cough expectorant is giving me really fucked up dreams(meeting your partner's dead ex in a dream and having to explain why the grass on his grave gets so high but he can't! or my usual chased by demons through the nightmarish wasteland of the post nuclear apocalypse-terrorized by bears which alternate look like my dead father or British comedian Eddie Izzard in drag(??? and double wtf!!!) does that count as fucked up to you?

what I wouldn't give for a more quiet mind! really!

my throat hurts and I have cramping in my chest from coughing-I'd enjoy staying up this late normally but nothing wrecks being up late like being up late because you're sick. If I ever get my hands on the little texting happy asian boy who spent the entire concert coughing and clearing his throat I'll make sushi out of him.

Hai-Ya!

And to add insult to injury Josquin decided to crap right in the middle of the hallway-perfect for stepping into in the dark-which I proceeded to do getting a glass of water. Luckily there was also pile of vomit not too far away-thank goodness I have that little bissel carpet cleaning thing or I would have been screwed-so I was able to clean up both piles and some random cat grass yack at..the clock says "6:11 AM" as I write this....I guess this is his way of telling me HE is sick of being sick. Heck, I am sick of his being sick. I don't know what to do...I want to crawl into a ball and cry.