Sick Day Holiday
Yesterday I took the day off. I figured if I was having the cold sweats while sitting still on the sofa, the rest of the day didn't bode well. I took the Kid to daycare (the Husband has a new project in the boonies for the next 6-8 weeks so I am on daycare duty which means he OWES ME BIG TIME). Anyway, I dropped the Kid off and then stumbled home. I re-read a pending blog post I wrote the night before while high on Nyquil and then posted it and then passed out for a couple of hours where I had dreams about those terrible posters for Nymphomaniac. Get out of my head Willem Dafoe!
I woke up, ate a lot of carbs, then passed out again. I woke up again and ate more carbs and then passed out again. This is a sign that I am very sick. There are different levels of illness that the Husband has had the honour to experience.
1) The kvetch. This is where I mope around all day and blow my nose and kvetch in an obnoxious tone and say things like "I'm siiiiick." And I make everybody miserable and I feel sorry for myself. That was Saturday and Sunday. Boy, the Husband left early today.
2) The great sleep. If I sleep for most of the day then I am really sick. I fight sleeping. I actually really dislike sleeping. If I could survive on 4 hours of sleep I would. Sure, once in a while on a weekend we will take a "family nap" but I'm not ecstatic about it. Having to sleep is a kind of punishment for me. I know, I'm obnoxious. But sleeping seems like I'm wasting so much time and then I get twitchy. Like yesterday, I slept the majority of the day and I feel terrible about it. I feel like I should have made Christmas cards or ironed or something. It.kills.me. Moving on.
3) I go to the doctor. This happens very very very rarely because doctors scare the bejeebus out of me. Except for my lady doctor. She's awesome and serves Nespresso. If I go to the doctor because I am sick, then the Husband starts checking the personal ads for his next wife. He knows I'm on the verge of dying if I actually make the appointment myself and he doesn't have to trick me into a cat carrier with pieces of cheese to take me there.
Luckily I am not at stage 3. Today is a work holiday and I am annoyed that I am sick. Last Monday was emotionally a disaster and I barely got anything done. And now I am sick and have a day off. The hits keep a coming! I have a meeting with the child therapist at 10. Then at 2 I have a facial. I hope I can make it through the day and that I get through my list of things to do that includes sticking more bats to the ceiling, making shadow cut outs and buying yards upon yards of tulle. Oh and I'm starting a cleanse. More on that later.
 |
| Surprisingly not on my creepy "I'd hit that" list. The list contains Eric Roberts but not Willem, never Willem. |
I woke up, ate a lot of carbs, then passed out again. I woke up again and ate more carbs and then passed out again. This is a sign that I am very sick. There are different levels of illness that the Husband has had the honour to experience.
1) The kvetch. This is where I mope around all day and blow my nose and kvetch in an obnoxious tone and say things like "I'm siiiiick." And I make everybody miserable and I feel sorry for myself. That was Saturday and Sunday. Boy, the Husband left early today.
2) The great sleep. If I sleep for most of the day then I am really sick. I fight sleeping. I actually really dislike sleeping. If I could survive on 4 hours of sleep I would. Sure, once in a while on a weekend we will take a "family nap" but I'm not ecstatic about it. Having to sleep is a kind of punishment for me. I know, I'm obnoxious. But sleeping seems like I'm wasting so much time and then I get twitchy. Like yesterday, I slept the majority of the day and I feel terrible about it. I feel like I should have made Christmas cards or ironed or something. It.kills.me. Moving on.
3) I go to the doctor. This happens very very very rarely because doctors scare the bejeebus out of me. Except for my lady doctor. She's awesome and serves Nespresso. If I go to the doctor because I am sick, then the Husband starts checking the personal ads for his next wife. He knows I'm on the verge of dying if I actually make the appointment myself and he doesn't have to trick me into a cat carrier with pieces of cheese to take me there.
 |
| I think I smell brie... Oh wait! It's a trap! |
Luckily I am not at stage 3. Today is a work holiday and I am annoyed that I am sick. Last Monday was emotionally a disaster and I barely got anything done. And now I am sick and have a day off. The hits keep a coming! I have a meeting with the child therapist at 10. Then at 2 I have a facial. I hope I can make it through the day and that I get through my list of things to do that includes sticking more bats to the ceiling, making shadow cut outs and buying yards upon yards of tulle. Oh and I'm starting a cleanse. More on that later.
Comments
Post a Comment