Feeling Better, Tasting Nothing

My husband told me last night that he can tell I'm on the mend.

"How so?" I asked." He proceeded to tell me I was talking more, and back to my old self. Upon my further questioning, aka interrogation, Greg told me that I had barely mumbled an audible word for three days, and now I hadn't STOPPED talking.

I'm sure somewhere in there was a compliment.

My body feels a bit better, yet I couldn't taste my Frosted Flakes this morning. Four spoonfuls in to it, and I put the bowl back in the sink. In fact, I think I can chalk today up as the first day ever I've had a cough drop for breakfast. Yum. Nothing wrong with a little coffee and menthol.

In the meantime, I've managed to swallow pink-colored pills that closely resemble the size of a tube of deodorant. Not a fan. Yet, they're working.

Just ask my 7-year-old, who is glad to see my big, fuzzy robe hanging in the back of my closet.

Not to mention my husband.