Glazed.

Dear Viewers,

I'm much better than I was,

But still a little one foot in the mashed potatoes.

I was so sick these past couple days.

I felt like Linda.

Immobilized.

Curled like a crispy creme on a conveyor belt.

Hot like the Texas who eats it.

Being sick makes me really crazy.

On a good day I feel handicapped.

On a day with the flu, I'm like a less attractive version of Nell.

And my poor husband to be,

He takes it like a champ, with my feet in his lap and my brains oozing over to his side of the bed.

I don't know what's worse, the irritable idiot I turn into,

Or the paranoid freak of me who calls him at work the next day and apologizes in tears for my mucus behavior.

I had to do things this week like,

Say no to things I had said yes to,

Call a doctor,

And swallow big pills.

All hard.

Yet here I am,

At the theatre,

Ignoring that blob in my throat,

Setting props,

And stretching.

Just kidding.

I never stretch before a show.

Too method.

Sniff,

Skin, Toast, achy joints