I think this is the name of one of my son's favorite bands or songs or something like that. I don't really know and I don't really give a flying fuck. I'm sick and it's entirely the fault of the buttfaces I live with. Since It's now been 5 days of misery, I thought I'd share a few observations I've had.
Day 1 - Starting to get sick. Feels more like nesting before a pregnancy. I'm trying to get as much work done as possible. I'm paying all the bills, making sure the lights or cable or hot water doesn't turn off when I'm too weak to log on to the computer. I'm doing all the housecleaning to give it a good solid clean base before everyone starts bringing their funk in and ruining it all. This sucks. My kids suck. They're still sicker than I am, so I'm still in charge of everything. I think I like them a little less today than usual.
Day 2 - Sick. This still sucks. My kids still suck. Now I'm just as sick as they are, yet I still have to do all the shit around here because they're helpless. I'm starting to wish they were baby birds and I could just nudge them right the fuck out of my living room. Interesting that animals are supposed to be so intuitive about their humans. Mine are just as selfish as my family. Apparently their person being at death's door doesn't change the fact that they want to go outside, they want to eat, they want attention, they want to scratch my furniture. Go gnaw up all those booger tissues on the floor in the bathroom if you're hard up for something to do, little four-legged assholes. I find my patience is decreasing in direct proportion to the increase in my swearing. Someone please explain why we all bothered getting flu shots this year? If this is the "milder" form, I can only think the 'heavy' form is slowly rotting to death in a hospital room, which still has to be better because they have to give you pain meds and keep people out so you can rest. That's the law.
Day 3 - Still just as sick. My kids are getting better, which means they're starting to talk all the damn time and WANT things. They want special treats. They want certain drinks. They want me to make them lunch. The first one who asks me to cut the crusts off their stupid ass sandwich is gonna wish he hadn't. Husband is now bored because he's NOT sick anymore and there's nothing to do. Here's a thought: Pretend to be ME for a day, asshat. And WTF is with the tissue parachutes? Why do my kids blow their nose then just kinda toss the tissue in the general direction of the garbage can? Why do they barely blow in a tissue then chuck it and get another? You can blow a couple times in a tissue, retards! Rethinking my prior decision to ignore pets. They're starting to look at me like they could take me, and scary thoughts like "I've fallen and can't get up!" combined with internet rumors of cats eating their owners start to occupy too much of my thinking time. I decide sprinkling a nice layer of cat food in every room and keeping toilet seats up is probably in my best interest.
Day 4 - Still sick. When it rains, it pours. Now my boss is bombarding me with emails. Seems the account has gone haywire and work is piling up. Guess what? That doesn't make me any less sick. I'm huddled under 3 blankets in front of the fire, covered in what I assume are some degree of burns from sitting in a bathtub much, much too hot for my skin, but not hot enough for my feverish delirium, and I can't breathe. This is definitely an ideal time for me to work. My youngest, well on the road to wellness now, is wondering "but whyyyyyyyyyyy????" I won't hop in my car and drive on down to Taco Bell for him. Parasite, if I could drive off right now, do you really think I'd be coming back at all, let alone with your fourth meal? Get a clue.
Day 5 - Still sick, but back at work because it seems without me the company is in danger of burning to the ground. Little do they know they're still in danger of that because I couldn't get ANY rest while I was out sick, dammit! Haven't they seen Office Space? I beg my oldest (who hasn't been sick for weeks) to please, PLEASE do a chore for me. ONE effing chore. That's all I asked. Does he do it? Fuck no. Made note to sprinkle all the used tissues all over his bed. House like like a crack house, food containers in every room and NyQuil bottles near every sink and zombie people crashing into walls (that's me, even more of a klutz when I'm sick). I even ordered the brats pizza, though I didn't have any since everything tastes like shit. Pissed that even though I can't eat anything, I still weigh the same. Sick Diet is supposed to work. All the celebrities say so. Husband is MIA today. Family gathering out of town that the rest of us have to skip. Awfully convenient of Grandma to have her 90th birthday on the weekend we're all sick. Coincidence? Hardly. Hope he's having a frickin' blast while I go play lobster and boil myself alive in scalding bath water again. Discovered I can taste and smell NOTHING. Ate a pickle. No taste. Ate the pickled carrot at the bottom of the jar. No taste. Ate the entire clove of garlic at the bottom of the jar. Nothing. Wondering what other super powers I have now. Saw the can of cat food in the fridge and briefly considered trying it just to see if I could, but held back when I remembered my fear of the cats running out of food and eating me.
Day 6 - Pretty much back to normal. Definitely looking forward to all these germ-mongers (AKA my ungrateful offspring) to go forth and spread all their germy goodness just as God intended. My first good night of sleep and I'm woken by the phone at 6:30 a.m. Are you fucking kidding me? It's the school. Snow day. Everyone stays home with me. Next time I'm sick, I'm flying home to MY mom. I wonder if she'd pick up Taco Bell for me?
Queen of my own Magic Kingdom, full of all the irreverent, obnoxious, and sometimes offensive sarcasm you know and love. I don't care what people think of me, but I do care if you like my blog. Read, forward, repeat.
