I’m not talking about the jam it all in there suck until he comes throats. No, I’m talking the swollen galls, it hurts to swallow throat.
It was a gift from my man. I didn’t want it but he gave to me anyway. How many sleeps before the big “happening” (as I refer to it as). It’s not fair.
I’m taking drugs — liquid and solid.
I wonder what my mid-wife great-grandmother would have advised.
“Oh, you weak, Canadian. Take some cod liver oil, then go for a five-mile hike.”
I can hear her now. Which is strange because — obviously — I never meet the woman.
Anyway, here’s hoping that I’m better soon.
At least it doesn’t hurt to type. : )