I have been a bad bad person. It seems. I'm not really clear on what I did that was so so bad the karma police felt it was necessary to come visiting. And let me just say: Their welcome wagon gifties leave much to be desired. Unless, of course, you ENJOY a big ol' bottle of black plague let loose upon your house like a pile of fire ants reaching dry land after a flood...
So while I may not know exactly WHAT I did... I know it was really REALLY BAD. And how am I so wholeheartedly convinced all this fester and rot is somehow my fault? I am the only healthy person left. I think that constitutes a flashing neon sign saying: Guilty Party Who Belongs In Hell with a big arrow pointing down at me.
Of course, my health could also owe itself to my newly developed OCD-Fatal Attraction love affair with a pretty pink can of Lysol and its cousin, Lysol Wipe. My face mask is supposedly in the mail. I do so hope it arrives soon. I'm almost out of chocolate and the closet I'm currently hiding in has no bathroom.
Let's have a little recap, shall we?
Thursday night - Shaggy (the teenager) gives me no less than four hugs, half of which were accompanied by sincere declarations of love and respect. That same night, I told Mr. Clean: "That boy is so so sick. Check his temp before school tomorrow."
Friday - Shaggy = 102.5 temp. We tucked him into bed and then arranged a look-in by his grandfather every two hours because I HAD to go into the office.
12:00pm - Shaggy calls me at work: "You didn't stay home with me? Why? I'm so so sick, Mom."
12:01pm - I am suddenly running a low-grade temp but am partly convinced it's a psychosomatic reaction to crippling parental guilt.
2:00pm - My boss reaches for his antibacterial hand-lotion stuff the moment I walk through the door for our meeting. And then refuses the copy of a report I've made for him.
Really? I feel fine... although maybe a little hot-cold-flashy mixed with a dose of dizzy. The same symptoms could easily be associated with exhaustion and PMS - and I'm suffering from both.
Saturday / Sunday - Doodlebug stays with his grandparents next door (Cool because his cousin is visiting) in order to stay clear of the sick house. He's been there since Friday night. I start my love affair with Lysol. I still feel kinda sorta bad... but not really. I'm thinking the diagnosis is exhaustion. I did manage to write a serious chunk of WIP. That's definitely not "Flu-like".
Sunday night - An overly-sensitive Doodlebug claims an hour of cuddle time with me on the couch. I should have seen it coming.
Monday - Shaggy = 101.7; Doodlebug = 102.3.
Me: "Must. Have. More. Lysol."
Mr. Clean: "See ya! I'm off to work, where the air is not fetid and ripe with disease!"
Me: "Bring home lots of coffee... the most giantist frozen frappuccino you can find. Or else."
Did I mention my phone connection has been a giant sucking hole of suck lately? Yeah, no improvement. Still. And no return call from the phone company. Mr. Clean brought home coffee. And a wig - to cover my half-bald scalp. Slow connections, sick spawnlings, and empty Lysol cans do not a pleasant day make.
Tuesday - Angels Sing! Shaggy has a normal temp and runs off to school. Doodlebug = 101.4 and a total abhorrence to both clothing and his bed. I set the partially naked spawnling up on the couch and tried to ignore the sounds of Dora the Explorer (followed by the moaning-hacking-sniffling attempts at Spanish by Doodlebug, followed by his declaration - every five minutes - that, "It's really hard to speak Spanish with a sore throat, Mom."). My phone still sucks. Dora sucks. I don't want to see another can of Chicken & Stars or Top Ramen Chicken Noodle soup ever ever EVER again.
Also? Thera-Flu might work great but only if you can get your spawn to drink it. I finally resorted to adding sugar. Hopefully it did not have adverse effects on the meds themselves. I don't think it did... unless having a hacking, moaning child suddenly turn into a spazmonkey for an hour after every dose is abnormal.
Somehow, I still managed 8 hours of the day job and an additional 5 pages on the WIP. Drugs may have been involved.
Tuesday night - Shaggy falls into his bed and impersonates a coma patient, directly after school. Not a good sign. He wakes up at 8:30 pm, just long enough to say, "I love you, Mom," before sprinting to the bathroom. I watched the remainder of House to the background soundtrack of: Heuuurk! Heuuurrk! (available soon on iTunes).
Me (to Mr. Clean): That boy is sick again. Please kill me now.
Mr. Clean: *cough - cough* Yeah, it's probably now the stomach flu.
Me: You too?! Oh, Lord have mercy. Really. Shoot me.
Mr. Clean: Get a grip on yourself, woman. I'm not sick of the dreaded plague. Have you not noticed the spring-like warmth outside? You know how the weather changes jack with my sinuses.
Me: Spring-like warmth? When did that happen? (I have not been outside in DAYS)
Wednesday - Shaggy = 100.4; Doodlebug = 99.8; Mr. Clean: "I am so so sick with the flu."
Phone Company: We're finally calling you back after a week. I'm not surprised your phone has gone wonky. We've been systematically cutting and splicing and otherwise playing with your phone lines for two weeks now... BUT... in just two more days, they will be perfect and new and you can probably have DSL too!
Me? I'm now hiding in the closet, armed with my Lysol cans (have to have backup, ya know?). I might venture out some time next month, unless that face mask doesn't get here soon. In that case... I'm burning the place down.
So while I may not know exactly WHAT I did... I know it was really REALLY BAD. And how am I so wholeheartedly convinced all this fester and rot is somehow my fault? I am the only healthy person left. I think that constitutes a flashing neon sign saying: Guilty Party Who Belongs In Hell with a big arrow pointing down at me.
Of course, my health could also owe itself to my newly developed OCD-Fatal Attraction love affair with a pretty pink can of Lysol and its cousin, Lysol Wipe. My face mask is supposedly in the mail. I do so hope it arrives soon. I'm almost out of chocolate and the closet I'm currently hiding in has no bathroom.
Let's have a little recap, shall we?
Thursday night - Shaggy (the teenager) gives me no less than four hugs, half of which were accompanied by sincere declarations of love and respect. That same night, I told Mr. Clean: "That boy is so so sick. Check his temp before school tomorrow."
Friday - Shaggy = 102.5 temp. We tucked him into bed and then arranged a look-in by his grandfather every two hours because I HAD to go into the office.
12:00pm - Shaggy calls me at work: "You didn't stay home with me? Why? I'm so so sick, Mom."
12:01pm - I am suddenly running a low-grade temp but am partly convinced it's a psychosomatic reaction to crippling parental guilt.
2:00pm - My boss reaches for his antibacterial hand-lotion stuff the moment I walk through the door for our meeting. And then refuses the copy of a report I've made for him.
Really? I feel fine... although maybe a little hot-cold-flashy mixed with a dose of dizzy. The same symptoms could easily be associated with exhaustion and PMS - and I'm suffering from both.
Saturday / Sunday - Doodlebug stays with his grandparents next door (Cool because his cousin is visiting) in order to stay clear of the sick house. He's been there since Friday night. I start my love affair with Lysol. I still feel kinda sorta bad... but not really. I'm thinking the diagnosis is exhaustion. I did manage to write a serious chunk of WIP. That's definitely not "Flu-like".
Sunday night - An overly-sensitive Doodlebug claims an hour of cuddle time with me on the couch. I should have seen it coming.
Monday - Shaggy = 101.7; Doodlebug = 102.3.
Me: "Must. Have. More. Lysol."
Mr. Clean: "See ya! I'm off to work, where the air is not fetid and ripe with disease!"
Me: "Bring home lots of coffee... the most giantist frozen frappuccino you can find. Or else."
Did I mention my phone connection has been a giant sucking hole of suck lately? Yeah, no improvement. Still. And no return call from the phone company. Mr. Clean brought home coffee. And a wig - to cover my half-bald scalp. Slow connections, sick spawnlings, and empty Lysol cans do not a pleasant day make.
Tuesday - Angels Sing! Shaggy has a normal temp and runs off to school. Doodlebug = 101.4 and a total abhorrence to both clothing and his bed. I set the partially naked spawnling up on the couch and tried to ignore the sounds of Dora the Explorer (followed by the moaning-hacking-sniffling attempts at Spanish by Doodlebug, followed by his declaration - every five minutes - that, "It's really hard to speak Spanish with a sore throat, Mom."). My phone still sucks. Dora sucks. I don't want to see another can of Chicken & Stars or Top Ramen Chicken Noodle soup ever ever EVER again.
Also? Thera-Flu might work great but only if you can get your spawn to drink it. I finally resorted to adding sugar. Hopefully it did not have adverse effects on the meds themselves. I don't think it did... unless having a hacking, moaning child suddenly turn into a spazmonkey for an hour after every dose is abnormal.
Somehow, I still managed 8 hours of the day job and an additional 5 pages on the WIP. Drugs may have been involved.
Tuesday night - Shaggy falls into his bed and impersonates a coma patient, directly after school. Not a good sign. He wakes up at 8:30 pm, just long enough to say, "I love you, Mom," before sprinting to the bathroom. I watched the remainder of House to the background soundtrack of: Heuuurk! Heuuurrk! (available soon on iTunes).
Me (to Mr. Clean): That boy is sick again. Please kill me now.
Mr. Clean: *cough - cough* Yeah, it's probably now the stomach flu.
Me: You too?! Oh, Lord have mercy. Really. Shoot me.
Mr. Clean: Get a grip on yourself, woman. I'm not sick of the dreaded plague. Have you not noticed the spring-like warmth outside? You know how the weather changes jack with my sinuses.
Me: Spring-like warmth? When did that happen? (I have not been outside in DAYS)
Wednesday - Shaggy = 100.4; Doodlebug = 99.8; Mr. Clean: "I am so so sick with the flu."
Phone Company: We're finally calling you back after a week. I'm not surprised your phone has gone wonky. We've been systematically cutting and splicing and otherwise playing with your phone lines for two weeks now... BUT... in just two more days, they will be perfect and new and you can probably have DSL too!
Me? I'm now hiding in the closet, armed with my Lysol cans (have to have backup, ya know?). I might venture out some time next month, unless that face mask doesn't get here soon. In that case... I'm burning the place down.
Oh bless! That is so funny (well the post, not for you!) I hope that you do not get the dreaded lurgey and that they are all feeling better soon!
Dancinfairy
Yipes! You must find out what you have done to offend the powers that be and never never never do it again! I believe you must be superhuman to have withstood this assault. Hoping everyone feels muchly better soon and that you continue to dodge those nasty germy bug thingies.
Dancinfairy - so far, so good. I'd cross my fingers and toes just in case but I think they're better used in holding the lysol at arm's length.
Katkin - you're telling me! Superhuman? Maybe... or super lucky... or maybe it's the bourbon bubble baths I keep taking. I hear alcohol does wonders for germs (plus it gives a whole new meaning to having a Hot Toddy). Still ducking and dodging (and hoping I'll be around next week!).