When I was at Lily's house today, doing puzzles (because Owen told me to and frankly, kid puzzles are about as puzzley as I like to get) a Chuckee Cheese commercial came on. I probably spelled that wrong. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT!
Anyway, Owen started waxing eloquently about the joys of Chuckee Cheese. Finally I said, "I really don't like Chuckee Cheese."
"What?!" he asked. "What?!"
"No. I don't," I said.
"But Mer Mer. You have to keep love in your heart!"
Oh dear god. That child.
So guess what? I'm getting sick again. This has been the winter of our illness and discontent. Everyone has gotten sick and no one ever seems to get well. You get better but you do not get well. I think this version of the virus may have come from Asheville as Jessie got sick a few days ago after she got home. I don't know and it doesn't matter. All I know is that my nose is running like crazy and I ache and my head feels cement-filled. Frankly, I am sick of this. Sick of being sick.
Anyway, la-di-dah. After Jason got home and we did the Gibson hand-off I went to the grocery store and bought severely healthy foods. Vegetables. Fruit. Tofu. You remember those foods, right? I think I do. And then I came home and I dragged my sick old tired ass out of the car and into the house with a portion of all the stuff I had to carry in and there were at least four dog pukes.
Four dog pukes.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I cleaned them up. I checked the landline voice mail. There was a message from the nurse at the assisted living. My mother does not feel well plus she has a rash and she needs to go to the dermatologist. Soon. Please call the nurse back ASAP. It was after five. I put my head down on the piano which is where the phone is and almost cried.
I called anyway. I left her a message. I reminded her once again that I do have a cell phone which she can reach me on if I'm not answering the home phone. Jesus. Talk about your sandwich generation. Jesus.
So. There's nothing I can do right about that right now. Hopefully, this is not an EMERGENCY RASH.
I put the groceries away. I folded stuff out of the dryer. I put the clothes from the washing machine in to dry. I put a giant teddy bear (NOT Big Bear) into the washing machine. It was in a bag when I left the house, ready to take to the Goodwill but when I got back, it was on the floor. With puke on it.
Did the dog take the bear out of the bag and then puke on it? What the hell goes on here while I'm gone?
I do not know. Frankly, I don't know shit. I do know that I'm going to get supper ready, eat it with my husband and go to bed.
And I would like to say that I'm going to spend tomorrow doing nothing at all but I have a feeling I may be taking my mother to the dermatologist although frankly, she does not need whatever illness it is that I have.
All right. That is it. Despite my bitchy, whiny tone I have to admit that I am not in the worst mood of my life. I'm sort of miserable but I'm not really depressed. Sometimes I think that my Puritan need to suffer is nicely satisfied when I am ailing so therefore my mind can relax.
Plus, I got to do puzzles with Owen and Gibson and Gibson kept studying my face as if he was wondering why I was looking at anything besides him when he was right there in my arms. And then, when I'd look at him, he'd break into the biggest smile in the world. And of course I got my daily affirmation from Owen with the keeping love in my heart thing. Which I need to remember. To keep love in my heart.
Not for Chuckee Cheese though, who can go suck a donkey...