Luke, I Am Your Vaporizer

[cough…snort…hack]

Yup – still ill.

As I’m trying to shake this pesky summer bug, I’m pining to be mothered. Steve and Elvis are doing their best – which is much appreciated – though somehow not the same. Elvis’ concept of nurturing is planting his 65 pound body across my chest and trying to forcibly remove the mucous from my nasal passages with his tongue – more smothering than mothering.

Remember being sick as a kid? The mint green plastic Vick’s Vaporizer sputtering in the corner of your dark room, sounding like Darth Vader was lying in bed next to you but you were too drugged out on grape-flavoured Dimetapp decongestant to be scared and hoping that you didn’t end up with a cough because then the grape-flavoured syrup would be replaced with that disgusting green what-the-f@#k-flavour-is-this-supposed-to-be Dimetapp never suspecting that there could be anything that tasted as horrible until you grew up and were exposed to Buckley’s.

Being sick as an adult just isn’t the same.