I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
I have plans this week, you know?
I’m going up to Pasadena on Sunday and I don’t want to be sick.
I want to be well and energetic and clever.
But I’m sick.
And maybe it will pass by Sunday morning.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
But I suspect I will still feel just a tad under the weather.
And so I will not be energetic and clever.
I’m going anyway.
And I’m going to have fun and find neat things to bring home with me and I’m going to see my friend and have a nice meal.
Take that, you stupid cold!
What are you in the face of my resolve to be rid of you?
You are doomed, that’s what.
Please please pretty please.
It’s Thursday now.
That gives me some time.
And it helps that husband has taken the little boy to Pump-It-Up again today.
They went yesterday too.
I got to take my shower in peace.
You have no idea how much I cherish that.
Usually, I have a four-foot person running back and forth outside the shower door, saying “Mama!” or “I want a snack.”
Today, none of that pressure.
My house has gone to hell.
Our company left, I started taking down Christmas and then I got sick, so now everything is half done and I haven’t swept or dusted in a while.
Sigh. It never ends. Laundry piles grow, dust collects, papers scatter, cat fur mats itself into blankets. All while I’m not looking. Maddening.
And our house lacks adequate storage. Its hard to put things away when you have no place to put them.
My greatest wish of late is to have a dining table with drawers in it.
Can you imagine the convenience of that?
A designated spot for place mats and pencils and crossword puzzles and napkins?
That, my friends, would be the ultimate luxury for me.
Alas, it isn’t to be.
We can’t afford a new table and there’s really nothing wrong with the old one.
Reduce, resuse, recycle…oy.
I’d like to reduce this table, resuse it as firewood and recycle the nuts and bolts into a new one.
If only I were craftier.
I just took a ten minute break to cough.
I hate being sick.