Green globs of holiday cheer.

I'm in the coughing up couch-sized globs of mucus phase of this illness. I wanted to take a picture of one of these slimy wads that I keep catching in my tissues for a little show and tell, but even with my blurry boundaries that seemed like a definite over-share. Once, weeks after Dan had surgery for a deviated septum (read: nose job), he blew his nose and was so excited by what came out---a 10-gram post-surgery slithering eel of blood and snot that probably couldn't fit through the drainage hose during surgery---that he had to show it to me. (And I, of course, had to tell you about it.) The image is still with me and I have never forgiven him for it. (He still displays immense pride when speaking of it.)

It's now been a full week since I started feeling crummy and coughed up my first solid globule---a tiny green model earth---and there are no real signs of its waning. I don't want to go to the doctor. I just don't. Last year I finally found a primary care facility that I liked---very crunchy and founded in the principles of preventing illness versus simply treating symptoms; plus my caregiver was a nurse practioner, my favorite---but it just shut its doors for good. (I guess people want their pills...) So, while I know I could do the walk-in thing or even call a friend who manages a primary care office to see if she could get me in to see one of her doctors, I'm being stubborn. My sister, who is just getting over a bad cough herself, gave me some of her magic juice (vicodin-laced cough syrup) but it doesn't seem to be doing much. In the morning the cough is loose and phlegmy but by the end of the day it's tight and hacking and unproductive; the kind where the wheezing seems to travel the length of your torso and exits your throat in a thick, gravely, steam-like hiss. And you thinks it's over so you try to continue your conversation but it comes back with a tickle and then you're keeled over again hacking into your arm, but you're sure that it must be over now and you start talking again only it's not and you have a headache now from another round of hard coughing and everyone is handing you glasses of water which does exactly nothing for this type of cough. This kind hurts my chest and back. Eh, I'll see how I'm doing tomorrow.

It's resolution time so I have all sorts negotatiating to do with myself and hardly the energy to do it. (Fine, you can take the TV out of the bedroom and meditate every morning, but I'm keeping The Biggest Loser and not curbing my iTunes spending...) Plus, I'm trying to get all revved up for the positive changes I plan to make on January 1st (through January 8th) but my revving is more of a putter. Molly is down in RI for the week so in addition to full days of writing, I also plan to accomplish every single home-related task before New Year's Day. I'm cleaning out the cluttered kitchen cabinets, I'm organizing the book shelves by subject, giving away the clothes and shoes that never get worn, sprucing up the spoffice, cleaning up and sorting through all financial matters (this includes organizing all coins by year), and I will also write every letter, card, thank you, chain letter and ransom note that I meant to get out in 2009.

So, I have to go now. I will get all of this done or die trying! Wait, I could actually die trying. Dan will come home and find me on the rug surrounded by an embarassing amount of self-help books , a green snot-ball lodged in my throat. Hopefully he'll take a picture for you.

P.S. Merry (belated) Christmas everyone. I wanted to talk about this Christmas---which was actually one of the best Christmases (grammar club?) in recent history---but I'm much too busy and equal parts tired.

P.P.S. I e-mailed Dan to ask him if I could write about the infamous nose-blow (I ask for his permission all the time for those who think I just sell him out) and this was his response: "Of course – I’m still proud of that. I wish I had pictures."