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Dear Stomach Virus, Sinus Infection and Upper Respiratory Infection,

You can suck it. I am over you. I would like you to move out now. You are keeping me from starting my New Year’s Resolutions, though I’ve lost four pounds just because you’re trying to kill me. Oh, and stay away from my kid while you’re at it. All he wants to do is pull books off of shelves, knock down blocks and lord over stuffed animals. Is that too much for a little guy to ask? He wants his milk, already. I’m looking at you, stomach virus. And it goes without saying that you also need to stay the hell away from my husband, too. He sounds like an old man and is coughing up what’s left of his lungs, and that’s about the ugliest sound you can think of next to nails on a chalkboard. He already has freakishly small nostrils, and the guy needs to breathe. It’s serious. And, quite honestly, I need to get my own work done. I’m backed up on my blogs, and the novel is just, well, mocking me.  Also, I feel I should let you know that I’ve stocked up on Vitamin E, Flonase, sinus medicine, wellness tablets, cough drops, pearl drops for coughing and some funky allergy potion that tastes like vodka and makes me sick. So bring it. OK, scratch that. Don’t bring it. It’s been brought. So just leave, and we’ll call it a draw.

Sickly,

Jennifer

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