Three Days Down

I have strep. So does my three-year-old. After being quarantined for three days I’ve made some personal discoveries.

Here’s what I know about myself and my immediate surroundings now:

I’m a big baby. I H.A.T.E. to be sick. I still want my mom to bring me soup and check my temperature. She offered to leave some soup at the front door this time. Actually Rachel offered the same thing. But she's pregnant.

Strep throat does not mean you merely feel like you are swallowing shards of splintered glass. It also means your clothes hurt. Your hair hurts. Your nose hairs hurt. Your taste buds hurt. Socks, sheets, carpet, toilet paper, sitting, standing up, moving, typing, seeing, you see where I’m going, all this shit HURTS!!!!!

I am quite possibly close to liver failure due to the Tylenol/Advil four hour alternating schedule I’m on. Which is funny. Cause I was SURE it was the wine that was gonna do me in.

I really miss my job.

I hate Dora.

Max needs to grow a pair.

I love screwing with telemarketers. They are easy prey and they aren’t expecting me.

I wonder what Portia sees in Ellen.

Kisses make everything better.

I am a nosy neighbor.

I can make it to the fifth "MAMA!!!!" before it actually registers.

I have the best friends in the world.

Facebook gets old. I'm the 5,763,894,907th member to think so.

My daughter is smarter than anyone else I know. She is also better at being sick than I am.

I wasn’t thinking ahead when I taught EJ how to use the remote control.

Scrabble Cheezits are fun AND food but there wasn't an "H" in our box. So, my idea to spell THIS SUCKS in Cheezits and then photograph it to use as the image header for this post didn't happen.

I am a master puzzle puttertogetherer. I've memorized a 62-piece Strawberry Shortcake puzzle too.

I should not swear out loud anymore. Really.

I’m sure I’ve made more self-discoveries. But I’m unable to think any longer. It’s enough that I’ve had to type with my eyelashes.