Pain In Hand Thumb And Pointer

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I think I have Stockholm syndrome, that of being kidnapped by the gang during a runny nose for almost a week has left me feeling like Patty Hearst but not wealthy family, that's for at least, would give a pass to the theme.

is that eventually I could no more, I gave up and succumbed to a torrid affair with my virus. Yeah, yeah, do not think it to be shocked as I am sure that more than has a past or simply wanted the same thing. If you do not tell me, who can resist a bed with clean sheets and warm, a soft pillow of dreams faithful confidant, comforter soft and flattering in a week when the sky cries bad milk and the sun has been sneaking out of work, clearly loitering around here Southerners, eh? ...

To this we must add to the pampering, cuddle and cuddle those who have been subjected, the broth of trips hugs kisses, hugs and kisses tizanas of healers, ancient family recipes donated free.

Exposed to normal circumstances, I say, my psyche has evolved mechanisms defensive, just to protect me! course. Of course I giving in wills to my captors, so I've become the cause and helped him becoming his accomplice in his next assault.

have used my body as a biological weapon being my lips wishbone withering new attack. The victim could not be otherwise, he who sleeps beside me, my pirate. I'm talented pupils in tight time I managed to subdue him into bed. But ...

... is that I could not refuse!, I was offered an excellent position if you tell me how I can not refuse:

- prime location in front of the fireplace on days with rain sofa adapted to the shape of my body, blanket, window overlooking First, associated sound track ("raindrops" the best for this time), which enliven the reading of this provocative book asks me devour.

You see, I have no choice, I have to find a psychologist to help me heal these signs of dependence on my body. If possible, cheap, budget cuts go, I'm afraid I also have to hire an attorney to fight for the rights acquired in pampering, cuddle and place of privilege, with the new kidnapped.

Eah! be bad it's more fun

Eah! Being ill is more fun.

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Rueda de reconocimiento, de virus.

Here I am stationed behind the glass, on the other side of the room are entering different individuals, numbered. The photographic identification has not been for nothing and we had to come to a parade.

The observed, are all so similar, even shiver protected behind the mirror, a shaking, my throat hurts and my head, left eye weeps copiously and time I've been here I have uploaded a fever. They are supposed to ignore my presence on this side of the mirror, I have identified to take the minutes and have secured a reliable test to show who is responsible, although the damage is done.

He caught me by surprise and did not expect and carelessness crept into my body. According to various reports calling Rhinovirus and belongs to the family of Picornaviridae, although not deceive me with a name so pompous. It is clear, is a thief of the ordinary but, hopefully Banda belong to the cause of common colds and composed of more than 200 skillful attacking mercilessly loss to mankind.

why I have to identify with caution I can not go wrong, if I get confused may be a covert flu and sentence will be longer, different remedies.

Consider the facts:

He has caused fever and malaise, the nose is now no longer exists or still dripping proboscis, producer of a torrential river in constant battle with packages tissues.

Chills and sweats make my body unpredictable wild dancer's head between images I lose, I'm just able to glimpse the right eye, left useless crying all day walking his sentence. I have a fever but is still not risen to more than 37.8 º. Muscle pains me to attack cheek and left me so exhausted that it is as if he had completed a melee of sneezing constants that accentuate the pain.

I think I have clear, identified, individual 2: Cold. Analgesics and decongestants to hold me off balance. I retreat, bed and comforter await me with open arms, so I'll be absent from this area.

Oh, I agree to broth.

Eah! be bad it's more fun ...

... and also I can not.

Eah! Being ill is more fun.

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Adios Marta

There are times when life was overcast, it's cold and you suddenly entangled the soul, though your eyes blur with tears threatening rain not only salt but the cheeks reaching sour womb.

I never knew Martha, I had the pleasure to interact with her in person, we agreed on the blogosphere in club, this is now tinged with grief and filled with sighs of absence. Also passing by, leaving in its wake in this that was his home, but I wonder ...

... "As we say goodbye if we have not really been said or hello? ...

Still his loss hurts, it hurts the pain, grieve, feel the void left in the beings with whom he shared his life, who loved and miss in every breath of the day.

This is when I envy those who are able to write with ink comfort to me not think of anything to mitigate, monitor and fire.

I left you a song, a hug and my kisses.

Eah! Being ill is more fun.