Admittedly, I'm typing this while also watching Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, which has re-entered my life via Netflix at just. the. right. time. And what is this I see about David Lettermen having his own Netflix-celebrity-interview show? Coming up next.
Because this February has been gross. Downright gross.
So much Tylanol. So many swollen lymphnodes. So much mucus coming out of multiple orifices (not all on one person, thankfully). So much pain-that-can't-be-described-in-words-because-it-seems-weird-but-"pain"-is-the-most-descriptive-thing-possible. And then one of my children thought "Things are getting tame around this joint. What IF I just randomly throw up on the carpet at 4 AM because why not? I'm really just fine, and this would be a one-offer. But it could jazz things up a bit." So that happened, too.
Oy. vey. children.
You tell them and tell them and TELL THEM to please wash your hands longer and please cough/sneeze into your elbow and PLEASE STOP COUGHING IN MY FACE, but they do it anyway. And then you come down with the walking plague, too, and naturally blame it on them even though both you and your spouse work in veritable petri dish infestations of hormones and bad hygiene, so it's always a toss up where any round of contagion ever comes from. But it seems like a good teachable moment (or a series of episodes, not unlike a long-running TV show that no one enjoys).
And then when el doctor says "These things normally just run their course in 10-14 days," while you're running the numbers over and over like a missed period and you almost start weeping because you're only on day s-e-v-e-n. But everyone at the walk-in clinic wishes that you'll have a good day. Do they even consider that possibility before saying it? Don't I look woebegone enough?
But, this mama caught something of a lucky break and came down with a BACTERIAL sinus infection, which, yes to the heavens! yes to ALL that is right in this world! yes yes yes this means antibiotics rather than "just wait it out." Y'see, I've never crossed over to the sinus infection side, so naturally, it took me an entire morning of wondering why one side of my face was feeling like death and why I took a serious plunge into the abyss after a couple of days on the uptick to realize that dummy, get thee to a doctor place. So I took a nap and slept on it for a while, cried out pitifully a few times, and convinced my erstwhile child (she who would later pay me back in vomitous en carpeterious) to please get me a fizzy drink with the correct straw.
So I've been wallowing in escapism via smart comedy. This is 'bout the only thing that has done it for me this week. I tried to do a relaxing bath but caved eventually because it seemed like a lot of water to waste so instead had an OK soak (by lapping water over myself on the constant) with a bath bomb that I had been saving and then DUH, couldn't smell.
Later last night when the glorious meds had begun their job and I felt less like death than I had all day, I folded a load of towels and my legs rejoiced: Free! Free! Able to do that which we were made for & stand!! This afternoon, I showed off my newly realized personhood and swept the floor AND sanitized every eating/counter surface. I told the boy that I had done more housework today than all of this past week, and he, ever so seriously asked "Do you feel good about it?" (i.e. "So you're feeling better because this single-parenting thing 'aint no joke?!?!?) but what I heard was the trick question that lies therein. I feel like those same words from me would have something of a negative consequence if he had answered yes, something like "Good, because I need a break...you can be in charge of everything all afternoon now." Bless his heart but he's a keeper. Bless my heart 'cause I'm not sure. There's never a time when I can't stand to be around my husband less than when he has the sniffles. I'm good with living out of and paying for a hotel room for a week if it means his sniffles are not in my vicinity. Shockingly...he doesn't agree with me.
And so now if the gods of winter have any sympathy, they'll keep the boy healthy and allow us all to move on. Because taxes..we owe $4000 this year. I know. I'm there with you snorting-coffee-out-of-your-nose-oh-that-hurts-SO-BAD.
And February, you have one more week to make us laugh. You have one more week to try to throw some shade. But my daughter (yep, again, the pukey one) wrote down a solid little aphorism on a white board and just left it for me to boost. And a nice dude behind me at the coffee shop put my drink on his tab for me when I was feeling downright lousy and was late to boot but desperately wanted something fizzy because he was a local pastor and felt called to show me some Christian love. And my other daughter (the non-pukey one...i.e. vying for #1 in the hierarchy today) has these little dance moves that are kinda slow jam meets '70s club scene that just cut through the noise of the day and bring the funny back into focus. So there 'ya go, February: You're on notice that you've already pulled out meanness but the laughs are still there. Hall-le-lu-JAH.
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