I woke up Friday morning, the first day of my four day vacation, with a sore throat.  Uh-oh, I thought to myself.  This won’t be good.  A shower didn’t help, neither did the 7+hour road trip I’d taken the day before from Chicago to Ohio with my brother and sister-in-law’s boisterous but loveable dog, Walter, to whom I am very allergic.  I did everything I could – purchased the Zyrtec plus congestion meds that I was put on the national meth registry for buying, sat in the front seat, etc.  By Friday afternoon, the sore throat had migrated down into my chest and I hacked like a life-long smoker with a breathing problem.  By the time we’d arrived at my family’s lake house Friday night, I knew I was in trouble.  (For those who are regular readers of my blog, this is the same place where I had my eyebrow threading adventures last summer.)