I’m suffering from some form of the plague.
The kind that sucks out all your energy and replaces it with copious amounts of snot to drip out your nasal cavities.
I don’t have any kleenex. And I just discovered there is no more toilet paper other than the six sheets left on the roll in the main bathroom.
I may have to resort to wiping my boogers on my sleeve or stuffing tampons up my nostrils. With my luck though, the cotton will expand and shoot out my ears, thereby pushing out what little brains I have and leaving me a lifeless, snotty zombie who drools on the couch, tugging at the string hanging from her nose.
Good times.
Please excuse me today, while I look for surfaces to wipe my mucus on. I’m thinking my husband’s pillow case looks mighty soft right now.
(There may be some slight passive aggressive tendencies I don’t really want to explore too deeply in that last sentence. Must stem from him being healthy and alone, while I’m slowly and painfully dying from some unknown rare disease while single handedly being responsible for the survival of his children.)
I’ll be back when my snot dries up. Or when I muster enough energy to drive to the store and beg the pharmacist to supply me with decongestants and kleenex. And maybe some buttwipe.
You never know when you are going to need more than six squares after all.
That’s a scenario no one wants to live through.
Feel free to entertain yourselves in the comments. Better yet, join me in my woes. Whine. Tell me your troubles. I can’t be the only gal out here in blogland whining, or at least wanting to whine. Spill it. What’s your beef?
Or you could just send me pictures of yourselves. Preferably clothed. But beggars can’t be choosers.
Tuesday, 10 June, 2008 at 16:46
I am with ya…. I have a head cold turned chest cold and I am blowing my nose and coughing up crap every few minutes.
Hope you feel better soon!
Tuesday, 10 June, 2008 at 19:29
I have to sleep with you for three whole days. I have to fly out on a plane to SanFran all by myself and leave my kid at home. I have to go to a conference with a bunch of other women who write about their lives on the internet. WAH WAH WAH.
The ticket has been bought I AM ON MY FRIGGIN WAY. No way out. Bummer.
Tuesday, 10 June, 2008 at 20:51
hope you’re feeling better by now, t.
as it happens, i did just post a picture of myself — clothed — today.
Wednesday, 11 June, 2008 at 7:51
I was up all night with my dog (soul mate)– a 165 lb St. Bernard. After developing ridiculous hot spots (leaking pus and ooze) I went to the basement and got ‘The Cone’ to put around his neck prohibiting him from biting at his sores until we could get him to the vet the next morning.
I was up all night.
Husband and other dog snored. St. Bernard panted and panted and crashed into walls as “The Cone” is the size of a large overstuffed beanbag and prohibits him from fitting through a doorway. After whining to my husband to shut the hell up and stop snoring, I gave up and tried to sleep on the couch. My dog just stared at me, scared to move in “The Cone” and panting and drooling. After a total of 2 hours and 10 minutes of sleep I climbed off the couch and rushed to get ready so as to be the first person (and dog) at the vet. In my rush I didn’t see the giant puddle of drool my panting dog left on the kitchen tile. I ran through it. My legs flew behind me and remained parallel to my ass as I bell-flopped to the hard floor landing in said giant puddle of drool on my hip, elbow and face. I began to moan. My husband was there in a flash as he thought, “the refrigerator had fallen over.” Apparently I need to lose weight too, as I sound like the damn fridge.
Brusied, cut up, burned and aching like I haven’t before, I have made it through two days since the fall. My dog is doing better. I still can’t lay down and my right side throbs. I am constantly reminded that I am getting to be an old refrigerator.