Too busy to be sick

I have a lot on my plate right now. I have sales calls to make, events to coordinate, emails to follow-up, a house to pack, a hubby to keep on track, a dog to snuggle, a friend to say bon voyage to, laundry to do (even after the laundry marathon that was this weekend), photos to take and post of the house, renters to find, appointments to make, and a nose to blow with a teary eye to wipe. I am a human ground-zero for debilitating allergies this week.

"I am misery," I would say to Hubster.
"Do you need something, my love?" he would reply.
"Help me," I would roughly whisper, "this may be the last day I am alive."
"You want some water in your final moments," he'd play along. "Take an Advil Cold & Sinus."
"But, Sugar, I can't die yet," I'd remind him. "I don't have life insurance yet. I am worth more to you alive right now."
"You better not go dying on me."
"I am too busy to be sick," I'd remind him."Misssssery..." I trail off in a sudafed sleep state.

We've been on this road before. I am a very dramatic sick person (not to mention my face warps into a scary troll mask - swollen eyes, beet-red nose, dried and scaly lips, always dirty glasses, and I smell like medicine and vitamins). Hubby plays along with me, coddling me like I need. He's a good man and he doesn't tell me to get over it, when I act this way, he just loves on me.

I have a roll of toilet paper on my desk for the never-ending nose. I wrote "Heal Me" on it, so I may fool myself into feeling better. I hope I don't get black writing on my nose!