Lately I've been trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I'll be Matt's wife in less than a month. I still don't quite think of myself as grown up, yet here I am all finished with my formal education and getting married. All I need now is a steady job and a good dose of maturity.

I also need to make my sick go away. Matt's also still sick. He has the classic cold with coughing and congestion, every so often it sounds like he's trying to cough up a lung. I'm suffering silently, bundled up in bed, trying to keep warm, feeling achy, and sounding like my throat is torn up when I talk.

Matt has threatened to drag me to the doctor if I don't get better by Tuesday. I don't like doctors. Actually, I'm all for doctors when I know they can help me. But when I suspect I have the flu, I don't see the point. Problem is that I can't tell the difference between a virus and an infection, so if I'm sick for an extended period of time I cave and go to get a professional opinion. What actually turns me off about doctors are the ones that have an attitude problem (and my HMO seems to be filled with them). Like the ones that tell me that I have the flu and then after a long sigh go on about I'm going to have to wait it out because there's nothing they can do about it and there's no magic bullet they can give me to make it go away. I'm sure they get several people who ask for some magical drug to fix the cold or flu, but I don't think they should dispense the snarky lecture and (optional) eye roll to everyone who walks in with a virus. It's not that they're telling me that information, it's that they're being such an ass while they do it. Don't they teach professionalism in medical school?

Bah. I meant to write something filled with sweetness and light, but I don't think that's going to happen until I get better or until my wish finally comes true and I get a house boy who will cook, clean, and serve me pina coladas or (in times like this) chicken soup.