Grip of the Grippe, Part Deux

I have gone shopping in sweats. I know, you're shocked. But the coughing phase of my cold has set in and I had no Nyquil. In the past the only thing that lets me sleep during the coughing phase is to be deep in a Nyquil coma. So I went to Target in my sweats with a knit hat pulled down over my head. Let's be honest, I would have gone unshowered and in my jammies for the drugs. I believe this is called desperation. One thing I do appreciate about living here is that Target is ten minutes away instead of an hour away. The nice girl at the checkout asked me for my birthdate, you know, for the drugs. I rattled it off between sniffs. She looked a little shocked. I expect with my frightful, mid-cold appearance she expected me to have been born well before the mid-point of the last century. So. I am home. I have taken my cold medicine and am rehydrating with Dasani black cherry sparkling water. I am going to park my arse in my big, comfy chair with a blanket and, probably, a kitty and slip into some sweet Nyquil bliss. Good night.