Pneumania!

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahgcoughcoughcough. Cough! COUGH! Coughcoughcough.

As Meghan pointed out yesterday, now that I have a pneumonia diagnosis, I'm an expert in the disease and am qualified to dispense medical advice via the internet. And so without further ado, I present the signs you might have pneumonia:

• You spike a fever of 103 degrees and the only reason you wake is to search for sources of hydration. You find yourself thinking that for this much thirst, there ought to be some much harder drugs involved.
• In your febrile state, you tweak a bit, which causes you to wake your significant other up in the middle of the night panicked that the covers are trying to eat you, and then accuse him of letting "stream shapes" in the room.
• After cajoling you into going to the new Target the weekend it opens, the Object of Your Affection looks at the shiny new condos with lust in his eye, and then exclaims, "Oh sweet! They're bringing a gastropub in here?!" Oh wait, sorry, that's one of the signs you're dating the whitest person in all of existence.
  
• You start ending all of your conversations, "NyQuil - out!"
• During a coughing fit, you pull a muscle in your abs, increasing your worries that maybe it's not pneumonia, but rather, the Stigmata. It certainly lends credence to those suspicious "freckles" on your hands and feet.
• You get really distraught after seeing those commercials with the pseudo-folk singer tweedling on about CVS creating ordinary miracles and wonder, if they're such miracle workers, then why can't they tell me how much Robitussin costs?
  
• You would give a tidy sum of money to the person who could produce this cough syrup: