Surviving on ice cream

The lurgy, or whatever it was returned in full force over the weekend. All I could do was cough and blow my nose. Then fall asleep and wake up two or more hours later. At one point in my terminal delirium, I remembered winter is coming and I still don't know how to operate my 2014 headlights. 

This is a problem to be solved only by my daughter, the Subi expert. I called. I could not sound healthy, try as I might. I went back to sleep after we talked. In a bit, loud banging on my door. It was Jenny, the concierge, with a lovely handle bag from the drug store. 

Her message from my daughter was "Take this, it's the only thing that works. And, please stop licking the doorknobs." I laughed so hard I doubled over and then had to find a handkerchief to catch the flying snot. Jenny said "Oh dear. I will order your dinner brought up." And I responded, "Two ice creams, please."

I struggled with the printing on the box and then on the bottle and the little measuring dose cap. Even with my shiny new glasses I could read nothing. Oh well. I could still drink it. I struggled with the cap, to no avail. I'd just sorted the heavy duty pliers from the tool box when another knock, knock, knock, and my dinner was at the door. 

I asked the nice young man to open the bottle, and he did. I slugged down dose one and put the ice cream in the freezer. The current selection is Buckeye Salute. No, not Ohio State. Buckeye's! Candy to be made nowhere else. A peanut ball center dropped in dark chocolate and served by the gross. Some people serve them in little paper candy cups, some with toothpicks. Serving them in excellent vanilla ice cream is shear genius.

Beth promised me a picture to help me understand how the lights work.

Look, dear old Mom can figure it out now. So nicely labelled and everything. Later today I had to go out, and remembered to take a picture of my own:

In my defense, I've not been well.