People, I am sick. In a low-grade fevery, body achy, even my skin hurts, chest-coldy, scratchy throat kind of way that makes me miserable while not actually being severe enough to make me take to my bed w/ hot water bottles on my head and thermometers sticking out of my mouth (by the way, don't google for images of "sick"--it's not pretty. And apparently all cartoons of "sick" are of men, puppies or pigs--apparently cartoon women never have water bottles on their heads and thermometers coming out of their mouths. Hence no funny picture of "me" being sick) So that means sick enough not to want to play with my kid for hours on end but not sick enough that he can tell I'm feeling like crap aside from me saying, "But I can't play, honey; I feel like crap!!!!" (no worries; I'm not really saying 'crap' in front of him (often)).
And to top it off, Husband is away on business, so its kind of like being a single parent (without the burden of actually providing any of the financial stability--which? really? means its not really like being a single parent AT ALL).
Actually I kind of blame Husband a little bit (why would I bother blaming my own lax hand-washing skills or my penchant for opening door knobs, or being out in the general public while breathing?) See, I don't sleep very well on nights that he travels because he is 37,000 miles high for 12 hours (which happen to be comprised of the 8 that I would normally be sleeping through) and that whole idea makes me twitchy to the point of temporary insomnia. I may have mentioned that I am becoming a very anxious traveler when flying is involved--I am just as antsy when it is a loved one in the air. So Tuesday night brought little, if any, sleep and a whole lot of tossing and turning and randomly flipping on CNN and Twitter to make sure no planes had fallen out of the sky while I was staring at the ceiling. If my immune system is already compromised? A bad night's sleep is basically the onramp to the Germ Highway for me and I'm bound to wake up with a scratchy throat and some of that fabulous "general malaise."
Why was my immune system already compromised, you ask? That *might* be because of my wine intake at a dinner party on Sunday night, two days before Husband's departure. This I blame on my friends (because again, why would I take responsibility for my own wine glass being filled over and over again in a social situation?!). Since college, I've known that if I overdo it where the booze is concerned, I am asking for a cold within 48 hours. It's a 50/50 sort of thing--sometimes overdoing it = cold; sometimes, it doesn't. Of course, this time, combined with the sleepless night, VOILA!
Sick. Excellent planning on my part (although, really, I blame Husband and my friends). Today after dropping Ethan at school, I headed to Target for throat lozenges, tea, vitamin C and all that good stuff so that when I pick him up, our afternoon does not resemble yesterday's, in which I laid on the couch, muttering and begging for quiet while he clomped around the house in the highest pair of my heels he could find while playing his ukelele and singing Bon Jovi. Oh please, let there be no Bon Jovi this afternoon...
(note to the grumpy old anonymous troll who seems to like to surface and scold me when I am whining about life: I AM JOKING ABOUT BLAMING MY HUSBAND AND FRIENDS FOR MY COLD. I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR MY OWN ACTIONS & I KNOW IT. HAVE A NICE DAY.)