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Flannel PJ's and Chicken Soup

First of all, gotta love it when you look at your referral stats and see that someone from the Pentagon's been looking at your blog.

And on a totally unrelated note . . . earlier this week, as I was sitting on my couch in my red flannel pajamas with a box of tissues, blowing my nose every five seconds, I realized how much I miss having someone take care of me when I'm sick.  I absolutely despise being sick -- I'll admit, I get a little whiny, and all I want is to get better as soon as possible.  I really miss the days when I was in a relationship, and someone was there to fetch me soup, orange juice, tissues, movies, an extra blanket, or whatever I needed.  Someone who would look at me lovingly despite my red flannel pajamas and my matching red nose, or just sit and rub my legs, feet, or forehead when I was too sick to do anything more than crash on the couch. 

Now that I have good friends in the neighborhood, many of whom are single, I almost feel like we have a duty to each other to deliver soup, tissues, cold remedies, or whatever when someone's knocked down with the plague.  I would have loved to have a friendly face stop by the other day, and I'm sure any of my friends would appreciate the gesture.  Sure, you might catch a cold, but what goes around comes around, whether it's the sniffles, or chicken soup.  Personally, I prefer wonton when I'm sick, just for the record.

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