Get A Grip
I have underestimated The Sickness. I am powerless to its fierce grip.
Let me make a confession. When I started to feel the tickling in my throat and the itchy eyes yesterday, I was secretly relieved. After our whirlwind trip to Oklahoma, I figured it would be a good way to stay in bed for a couple of days without the guilt. D would have to take care of the baby while I lounged in bed, reading magazines and watching shitty TV (which, did I mention, we STILL haven’t purchased Direct TV DVR?!)
Little did I know that The Sickness would take my entire head hostage, conducting strange experiments involving massive amounts of snot and pressure. Add to that a healthy dose of delirium that my baby is going to contract The Sickness and be miserable until he is 2 years old. I PICKED A DRY BOOGER OUT OF HIS NOSE WITH MY DISEASED FINGER! YESTERDAY MORNING! MY BARE DISEASED FINGER! I WASHED THE FINGER DIRECTLY BEFORE THE PICKING OCCURED, BUT YOU CAN’T BE SURE! HE SURELY HAS CONTRACTED THE SICKNESS! In combination, these things can keep a girl up at night.
So, now I’m quarantined in the bedroom while D takes care of the little one out in the non-diseased areas. Once in awhile, he will open the door and let me wave at the baby. Who, by the way, has grown larger since yesterday. And probably is spouting off his ABC’s, dressing himself and has a hottie girlfriend.
WHERE HAS THE TIME GONE?? BWAHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
I can’t focus on the magazine print, Saturday morning television blows, and all I want is to exit the bedroom and hang out. Be careful what you wish for, is all I’m sayin’.
UPDATE – I now am sending D to the grocery store with my Dying of Sickness list. I just spent upwards of ten minutes explaining (with my sexy froggy voice) how saltine crackers are vastly different entities, with my personal preference being Zesta followed by Krispy followed by the horrendous Premium brand. If he comes home with Premiums, I will die. The End.