Damn. I really thought I was going to pass through this cold and flu system untouched, but I'm beginning to fear not.
Hopefully it's because my period is about to start, and possibly because I had to slice up a particularly strong-smelling onion for dinner, but I am sniffly, my eyes are burning, and I feel feverish. And I've been dizzy all day which, as my mama always said, could be fluid in my head. From the ick.
I have been downing Airborne and Zicam like a mofo but I think these pussy-assed homeopathic remedies have failed me.
Tonight I'm going hardcore: Nyquil, Advil night, Mucinex, gin, tonics, you name it, I'm downing it, and hoping to spend tomorrow in a coma drooling on myself in my comfy bed. Hopefully alone.
No news to report, oh, other than almost losing the Nooge to the bowels of the house. We were cleaning out the airfilters the other day, and we live in an older house, so the vents are basically just holes in the walls or floors covered by grates onto which thin filters are fitted, supposedly to keep out dust and other toxins, but I scarcely believe it because the three of us still walk around sneezing our heads off constantly. Probably due to the lead pipes or asbestos, god knows.
Anyway, so the Rottenator and I had left our dining room for a split second, me to grab the dustbuster because I have become fanatical in my cleaning, and the Rottenator to...god knows, just wander off because God forbid he was having to do something that didn't involve the couch or video games, and when I returned to the dining room I was met by the vision of two orange furry feet and a big ass tail poking out of the hole.
That's right. A headless cat. A headless half-cat. I did as any good mother would do when her baby was in danger: froze, panicked, and starting screaming hysterically for the Rottenator.
"He's in the floor! Our baby is crawling underneath the house!"
The Rottenator responded as any good father would: "Well, get him!". Actually, he was quite effective during this CATastrophe (ha! yeah, I know, but I had to go there). He bounded into the room, and in one quick scoop, grabbed two feet and a tail, and pulled the baby free.
The only thing I could have done to be a worse mother would have been to stop and take pictures, but that I did not do (again, not so quick with the action or the thinking in a time of crisis am I), so these images are as close I could find that would accurately describe the scene.
You get the idea.
But, crisis averted, and the Nooge is okay...for now...until he pisses me off.
My mood is not much better; tried to watch a movie with the Rottenator and he just "didn't get it". Never does. But he's trying. Which makes me feel worse.
Definitely time for bed.
My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:
I chose the video with the lyrics. I find them quite apropos.
Hopefully it's because my period is about to start, and possibly because I had to slice up a particularly strong-smelling onion for dinner, but I am sniffly, my eyes are burning, and I feel feverish. And I've been dizzy all day which, as my mama always said, could be fluid in my head. From the ick.
I have been downing Airborne and Zicam like a mofo but I think these pussy-assed homeopathic remedies have failed me.
Tonight I'm going hardcore: Nyquil, Advil night, Mucinex, gin, tonics, you name it, I'm downing it, and hoping to spend tomorrow in a coma drooling on myself in my comfy bed. Hopefully alone.
No news to report, oh, other than almost losing the Nooge to the bowels of the house. We were cleaning out the airfilters the other day, and we live in an older house, so the vents are basically just holes in the walls or floors covered by grates onto which thin filters are fitted, supposedly to keep out dust and other toxins, but I scarcely believe it because the three of us still walk around sneezing our heads off constantly. Probably due to the lead pipes or asbestos, god knows.
Anyway, so the Rottenator and I had left our dining room for a split second, me to grab the dustbuster because I have become fanatical in my cleaning, and the Rottenator to...god knows, just wander off because God forbid he was having to do something that didn't involve the couch or video games, and when I returned to the dining room I was met by the vision of two orange furry feet and a big ass tail poking out of the hole.
That's right. A headless cat. A headless half-cat. I did as any good mother would do when her baby was in danger: froze, panicked, and starting screaming hysterically for the Rottenator.
"He's in the floor! Our baby is crawling underneath the house!"
The Rottenator responded as any good father would: "Well, get him!". Actually, he was quite effective during this CATastrophe (ha! yeah, I know, but I had to go there). He bounded into the room, and in one quick scoop, grabbed two feet and a tail, and pulled the baby free.
The only thing I could have done to be a worse mother would have been to stop and take pictures, but that I did not do (again, not so quick with the action or the thinking in a time of crisis am I), so these images are as close I could find that would accurately describe the scene.
You get the idea.
But, crisis averted, and the Nooge is okay...for now...until he pisses me off.
My mood is not much better; tried to watch a movie with the Rottenator and he just "didn't get it". Never does. But he's trying. Which makes me feel worse.
Definitely time for bed.
My Mood Ring(tone) of the Day:
I chose the video with the lyrics. I find them quite apropos.
Hope the flu stays away.
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