Wednesday, February 7, 2018
I might get a rampant staph infection in the side of my head, lose vision, and blow a hole in my cornea every once in awhile, but I wouldn't count that as "sick" would you? I didn't think so.
(The blown cornea happened in August when the scar tissue ruptured. I would've written 'Half Staph Part III' and filled you in if I hadn't been so busy lying in the fetal position, sucking my thumb, and repeatedly banging my head against the floor. You understand.)
So back to it. Me no sicky.
Until 4 days ago. Super Bowl Sunday, 2018, to be exact. I arrived home from Kangoo jumping with my friends. Those are spring loaded ski boots you bounce in. If you didn't know that, we maybe shouldn't be friends. Anyhoo, I got home and BAM! Fever. Aches. Chills. Cough. Suicidal thoughts and tendencies...no, never mind, just maybe some slight delirium. No need to go into the details of all the dys-bodily-functions. I had the flu. Fill in the blanks with what that means to you and let's move on.
I spent the first 2 days in bed drinking Fireball, because my daughter-in-law said it would help, and she knows things. Two days straight. Sweat, freeze, sweat, freeze, sweat, freeze...I could go on, but why.
Day 3 showed slight improvement and I graduated from Fireball to Nyquil...until the freakin' This Is Us, Jack's freakin' Funeral episode where I silently freakin' sobbed for an hour and then started my freakin' period because my body didn't know how to handle the sudden overload of Estrogen and it turned against me.
I ain't wired for that sh*t.
Today was Day 4 and things got really dicey. The fever was broken, which sounds like a good thing until you realize that despite feeling better, you're still too weak to get out of bed. Add to that, a snow day for the non-stop-chatty-opera-singing 10 year old, and you've got a recipe for certain disaster.
Can I not simply lay in my bed alone researching whether or not Bruce Springsteen really held a concert on Saturday January 31st, 1998 in hopes of giving myself permission to be utterly disappointed with the inaccuracy of the This Is Us Writers, lose all respect, and write off ever watching another episode again? Is it not enough I've lost trust in my crock pot?? How can I ever fully enter Menopause as long as that Estrogen-inducing crap stays on the air???
But no. Instead, she sat right beside me in my bed, eating pizza in my ear, (mis)reading things out loud over my shoulder, so I decided that washing my hair for the first time in 5 days seemed like a less painful thing to do. So of course she followed me..."Mommy! My birthday is in 36 days! Tomorrow it'll be 35 days! The next day..."
That's when I slammed the bathroom door.
I have no doubt she talked herself all the way down to March 16th. Reading my vibes isn't part of her repertoire yet.
An hour later, I left the bathroom and found my bedroom blessedly empty. I crawled into bed, turned on the tv, and that's when I found it. The new TLC series. Seeking Sister wife. Meet the 3 brand new hot messes of reality tv; the Alldredge's, the Briney's, and the Snowden's.
Kody? What? Brown? Who?
So I binge watched all 3 episodes available. You would've too.
Then Ron came home from work.
"What'd you do today?"
Oh my gosh, you're not even gonna believe it.
Jeff, Vanessa, and Sharis have been video chatting with a new chic that Jeff and Sharis really like but Vanessa isn't sure but she's pregnant so she's not sure about anything right now but when they went to the airport to meet her she never showed up anyway, so win for Vanessa. Drew and his 3 wives just moved into the same house together, Auralee is wife #2 and says she talks with a lisp, but really she just can't say her 'R's' so she lies to people and says she has a Danish accent and she teamed up with wife #3 Angela to gang up against wife #1 April because April wanted to give the used mattresses to Auralee's kids and keep the new mattresses for her own, which I'm not condoning, but I think the deeper issue is April hates polygamy, as she should, and so HashtagTeamApril, and don't even get me started on the Snowdens because all Ashley really wants is a live-in housekeeper and nanny for their kids but Demetri has her convinced that that's called "polygamy" and they just met up for lunch with a 22 year old flight attendant and then Demetri took her out on a date ALONE for dinner that night! It ain't gonna end well. I'll find out for sure Sunday at 10.
Stop looking at me like that, I have the flu.
Ron: "So are you recording that show now, too?"
It's called follow-through and it's not like I really have a choice at this point.
Don't let him fool ya. He'll be watching it with me.
It'll be good for him to realize how normal he has it by comparison.