I would just like to apologize proactively to… uhhhh… well, I guess the entire state of South Carolina. I’m sorry.
But maybe that’s the wrong place to start. Where I should start is with this: Hey, for MONTHS we’ve been looking forward to this weekend’s camping trip! Yay! We load up approximately enough food, clothing and sundries to last us for a month in the desert, and then we drive a while and set up in the wilderness and then… sit around and read. (When Nerds Camp: The Boringness, coming soon to a really crappy theater near you!) But, see, camping is DIFFERENT than being at home, because it involves a lot of fresh air, and also popsicles. So you can see why it’s so exciting.
Plus we pack a couple of new toys for the dog, you know. So there’s that.
But this camping trip is destined to be a Very Special Event, because right now we’re really not fit for public consumption, and we’re going anyway, BY GOD.
I’m sorry, South Carolina. I really am.
Monkey had pinkeye earlier this week. And like the dutiful mother I am, I took him to the doctor so that she could tell me that yes, he had pinkeye, and no, she didn’t think it was bacterial, so we should probably just wait it out. And by the way, it’s highly contagious, so make sure there’s plenty of handwashing happening!
I tried to explain it to Monkey. But Monkey—like most 10-year-old boys, I think—views handwashing as a penalty. That’s the thing you have to do when your mother catches you careening out of the bathroom with dry hands. That’s the thing your stepfather suggests to you when he catches you trailing your fingers along the hallway walls after you spent some quality time outside, digging for treasure. It’s nothing you do ON PURPOSE.
So we stayed on him to wash his hands, and I washed towels and pillowcases and made a habit of squirting hand sanitizer around me like a lovely, gloopy halo of protection, and within two days Monkey’s eyes were better.
Of course, now Chickadee has pinkeye.
And Otto and Chickadee are both still on steroids, and it’s beginning to wear on all of us, by which I mean that Otto is uncharacteristically snappish and Chickadee won’t. stop. talking, except when she’s eating, and sometimes not even then.
As for me, I woke up yesterday with a fever. Today I am refusing to take my temperature, because if I don’t know for sure that I’m sick, then I’m not really sick. Or something.
Also, does my left eye look okay to you? It feels a little weird.
I’m sorry, South Carolina. We’ll try not to touch anything.