I had to start prednisone yesterday for my asthma/bronchitis/surely-fatal-lung-affliction. Between the ragey, ravenous effects of the prednisone, the shakes from the nebulizer, the little cough medicine that couldn’t (but could give me stabbing stomach pains), Lincoln’s eternal sleep strike, and my general emotional instability, here’s how my 29th birthday went:
At 2 am when Lincoln decided it was play time, I was like
and the Ogre was like
Then when the minions ran in at 6:30 and were like
I was like
Then I stumbled into the kitchen and was like
The Ogre was like
and I was like
Then the Ogre was like
and I was like
When I woke up the Ogre was like
and I was like
then I got out my birthday cookies and I was like
and the Ogre was like
then he was like
and when he came back with flowers and chocolate, I was like
He was like
and I was like
but
He was like
and I was like
So then he got me a glass of wine and fixed the computer so it works and now I’m like
and the Ogre’s like