Dude, where's my casserole?

I vaguely remember making a casserole last night. I came home from school and the clinic, armed with my Z-pack and fresh box of Theraflu Flu & Chest Congestion, and determined to be a helpful spouse. Since T's mom gave us a casserole dish recently, I'm starting to catch on to the fact that baked dinners require a lot less supervision and consume a lot less time.

Thanks to the ever-trusty AllRecipes.com I found a tasty sounding dinner with all the ingredients I had on hand: broccoli, eggs, cheese and fake sausage. The actual cooking part of it was so quick I hardly remember frying the sausage and steaming the broccoli. Threw it all in the dish and put it in the oven...voila!

It gets hazy from there because that's when I put the tea water on to boil and started watching old episodes of Lost. Within 3 sips of the Theraflu, I was starting to feel woozy. I remember laying down next to T on the couch and putting my laptop on the floor. I remember starting a new episode of Lost... After that? Not much.

T must have eaten all the casserole, because the empty dish is in the sink. I must have made it to the bed at some point, because I woke up there this morning. Apparently I didn't have enough energy to take off my clothes, because I'm still wearing my pink hoodie, jeans and all the requisite undergarments. I woke up wide awake at 7:00 this morning, for the first Wednesday since my 8:30 a.m. Wednesday classes began. Except I felt like I was drowning in my own gunk.

With memories of the last time I went to school sick and all the dirty looks I got (two weeks ago) I decided to stay in... again. Why? Why do I, the non-smoker who never gets sick, have bronchitis for the second time in a year? I'm sure certain members of my family would say it has something to do with my lack of faith. I'm just going to drink my sleepy juice and wait for the anti-biotics to do their work.