Let's see. Where should I start?
Should I detail the fabulous Seaside vacation we just returned from?
No, too tired.
Should I regale you with the details of Squish's birthday, which was just as fabulous?
No, too sore.
Should I shake my fists angrily at my left breast which was found standing at attention at four this morning, looking like a part of my body I haven't seen since watching first-run episodes of My So-Called Life?
Yes, I should, because it means that the mastitis has returned and boy oh boy, is it ever ticked at me.
Temperature of 101? Check.
Alternating sweats and chills? Check.
Throwing up? (This is a new one for me) Check.
Boob that looks like something sculpted by Dr. Rey? Check.
Bring on the drugs.