Tussin CF: New! Alcohol-free formula.

I got to explain oedema to Angel on the way over to buy me some more cough syrup (I used it all). He thinks it's so funny because I get excited about explaining things. That's how I can tell you're in the right profession, he says. The way you just light up when you talk about things like ulcers and gangrene and broken bones. I got a cough syrup with an expectorant in the hopes that maybe my cough won't be quite so dry and racking thereafter. And I got a night-time cough suppressant in case I wake up at 2 AM with a hacking can't-breathe cough again like I did last night. Strange dreams when I'm sick. Very strange dreams, and in my dreaming fog I thought "I should write these down." But I didn't, and they're lost now. Emily got me a new notebook as a thank-you for making a computer for her. It's green, with a beaded cover. "Because I always see you writing in class." Iwona told me that when I publish a book, she wants a copy. Is it that obvious? Writing is my escape; it's what I do to keep myself from going mad. And there's something about knowing that at least someone is reading these entries that makes it even better. If I didn't already have a permanent account, I would consider myself justified in buying one by now, as prolific as I am. Speaking of which: I've updated Morning Glory, for certain persons who wanted to know. And I'll type in that extra bit of back story now...