It's so cold...

Last night, yesterday in general, I started having symptoms of strep throat.  Feeling like a whiny five-year-old, I called my dad (who didn't pick up), then my mom, then my dad for some parental comfort.  It sort of happened.
I told my mother what I thought I had (actually what I pretty much know I have), and she suggested I get a prescription for amoxyl.  And, I mean, how could she be expected to remember that it is believed that I have an allergy to that.  I mean, after all, that's only been the case for 22 or so of the 25 years I've been around - and it's only come up a couple of times - every instance of me needing antibiotics ever.  I can only figure that my mother, who's pretty into alternative medicine, was suggesting an alternate treatment that I had yet to consider (and I admit it: I hadn't considered it at *all*).  I thanked her for the suggestion, then hung up the phone and promptly dialed my dad, again.  It was nice that this time he picked up.

Me: I think I have strep throat.
Dad: Aw, poor duck
[yay, I got "poor duck"-ed, parental comfort take one, let's try that again].
Me: Yes, and I feel awful and achy.
Dad [clearly violating his ideas about liquid calories, because he is good that way]: Ohhh.  Well you should make yourself some hot chocolate and tuck into bed. Or soup, soup is good.
Me: *sniffle sniffle*
Dad: Do you wash your hands enough because, you know, studies have shown that washing your hands regularly-
Me: Er, dad?  Trust me when I say that there's really no way this could have been avoided.
Dad [who I told, probably yesterday, that there was *someone* new in my life]: Uhhh, that is okay, I do not need details.

Parental comfort achieved, and I tucked my achy self into bed.  Now I have to wander down and hunt up a prescription for some drugs - though I don't think I'm going to take my mom's advice and go with the one that is likely to kill me - but that's just the kind of girl I am.