Today at Casa Mir: Thrills! Chills! Fever! Hot, aching, undeniably and painfully infected boobage! And the whole time, me sitting here saying to my body, “Um, HELLO, did you not think this would’ve been a useful stance to take YESTERDAY, so that it would’ve been clear to EVERYONE that I had an infection? No? It made more sense to start with this crap AFTER I’d started antibiotics and should be feeling BETTER?”
So, um, still waiting to feel better. In fact, I cannot admit how early this entry was written due to my need to get to bed early after a strenuous day of napping, so I’ll just set it to publish later. I most certainly did NOT go to bed at 8:30. Nope.
And let me tell you, I am a laugh riot when I’m under the weather. Yes. I curled up on the couch and let the children (who are apparently NEVER going to school again, thank you so much for an “in-service” holiday FOLLOWING a holiday, oh school administration which has never had a hot aching boob before!) use me as a jungle gym while they watched cartoons and ground muffins into the carpet.
“Mama, can we eat chocolate?” Sure!
“Mama, can we watch porn?” Okay!
“Mama, can we prance around naked, snorting cocaine and setting things on fire?” Well, that depends. Can I lay here with a heating pad on my chest and sleep while you’re doing it? Yes? Alrighty then!
I got up now and then, but if I’d had a special Magic Eight Ball on hand for myself today, it would’ve said “OUTLOOK USELESS.” I may have done some work. Or I may have just mailed a client and said, “Ouchie boob yucky sick talk later.” I don’t remember. Also I endured a panoply (motto: nearly rhymes with monopoly!) of endearing terms thrown my way by well-meaning folks who find my predicament moniker-worthy. While BOOBSNOT seems to have reigned supreme in the comments on the previous entry, I regret to inform you all that Joshilyn WINS AT GROSSNESS with her apt crowning of my current condition as BOOBPUSAPALOOZA.
Sure, other things happened, too. Like, I would get up and go wander around the kitchen and eventually decide that 5 Advil and 2 Cheez-Its would make a good lunch. (For ME, of course. The kids had… ummm… something else. That I fed them. I think. I’m sure I would remember if I forgot to feed them lunch.)
Also I distinctly remember saying “WE DO NOT STORE POKEMON FIGURES IN OUR BUTT CRACKS.” I like to adopt the third person, royal WE approach when making such declarations. I think it makes me sound more authoritative, don’t you?
Some other stuff happened today. I think. Look; what do you want from me? Notice I’m not telling you about the warm compresses or what they wrought. Just shut up and be grateful. I’m trying, here.