So, um, today is my birthday. I think I’m having a midlife crisis, except that instead of running out to buy a sports car I cried all over Otto a couple of nights ago about how it’s just SO STUPID to be upset over all of these little things which I am really quite upset over. The cry was good; I sort of got it out of my system, and in then the next day I scrubbed some bathtubs and did five loads of laundry and everything seemed better.
So far today my Facebook friends gave me lots of lovely wall comments.
My parents sent me funny cards.
Kira mailed me gluten-free blondies that are out of this world (and no, I AM NOT SHARING) in addition to a lovely purple tiara which I have maybe been wearing since 6:00 this morning when I opened the box.
Monkey serenaded me.
Otto gave me a big smooch and promises to come home earlyish.
And Chickadee came down with swine flu.
Okay, TECHNICALLY I don’t know if it’s swine flu. I’ve spent the day saying, “Well, if she gets worse, I’ll take her to the doctor.” And then she rallies a little and I figure she’s fine and then five minutes later I find her snoring and drooling on the sofa.
This is probably garden-variety back-to-school yuck, right? The “two confirmed cases of H1N1” at her school are probably just imaginary, I’m certain.
In the meantime, I’m working and tending to her and trying to ignore the fact that my throat is sore. Because it’s NOT. Because it’s my birthday, dammit, and I am old and therefore swine flu would probably not just ruin my day, but also kill me in my aged, weakened state. And I still have things I need to do! Like catch that stupid dog, who the neighbors are apparently feeding on a regular basis and therefore will never go into the trap we have set for him, because why risk getting caught for some bones when down the street they’re tossing hamburgers into the yard?
I think maybe I need to go lay down.