A Birthday on Steriods

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

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