Dear Tickle In My Throat,

You are the worst. You are stealing hours of my life. You are stealing my sleep. You are stealing my ability to speak. I have to sleep in the guest room because of you. I also have to cross my legs every blessed time I cough because I never know how violent the attack will be and I don’t want to risk tee-teeing myself (thanks, kids). You are the absolute worst. I’m ready to break up with you. We had a good run and I thought 2 weeks was long enough. And just when I thought you were gone for good, you came back. You came back with a vengeance, you little punk. You know I have a trip coming up that’s been on the books for months. So I’ve decided, you are not the boss of me. I am coming at you with everything I’ve got. 

Read More