And this is how I die.

How morbid is it that I think that phrase at least once daily? I've got a chest cold and am walking in the freezing wind with my coat open: this is how I die. I start laughing and can't stop coughing: this is how I die. I step on this Lego, slide on that coloring book, and fall into the doorway: this is how I die. My child won't quit whining from the backseat of the car: this is how I go crazy and then die. It's a bit ridiculous, and it's not like I have a death wish. I think I've just watched one too many episodes of 1000 Ways to Die.

Anyhow. I'm sucking at this whole "write something every day" business. The above passage was actually written Friday. Nothing written yesterday. Forcing myself to write this now. But I AM sick. And I'm pretty sure this cough is going to kill me. The antibiotics are breaking everything up, and I can't stop trying to hack stuff up. Trying is the word. I hate this phase of it. I'm technically getting better, but it feels like I'm getting worse. It's no fun. Eli keeps asking if I'm ok, over and over again, while I'm in the middle of never ending coughing fits. Like, kid, I can't answer you. I can't talk or breathe. I'm not ok, and now I'm super annoyed too. He's the sweetest, and I love him. But geez, kid, leave me alone and let me cough to death in peace. #andthisishowidie