And I continue to deny it.
In other news........
Oh, it might have been the rest, or it could have been the medicine, copious amounts of television did not hurt. But whatever it was, whatever it did, it worked. I am cured. Mostly (the phlegm still runs freely down my throat, Randal)
I am cured. Like a ham? Could be. I am well enough to be out of bed and doing some things. Not necessary things, mind you, but things.
Items still must be packed. And moved. And unpacked. I'm still not doing those things, but I'm doing - things.
For example, I ate cinnamon toast for breakfast. I put sugar in my tea. Had Oreos for brunch. I ate the last two scoops of Mayfield vanilla ice cream because if Garbo and The Actor both decided they wanted ice cream at the same time, there would have been a fight. I ate ice cream to quell an argument that hadn't even started.
I'm on a health kick, can't you tell?
I finally showered and that felt like a good thing. As did vacuuming the bedroom. It needed it. I needed to vacuum. There, I said it. Hi, my name is Lisa and I am addicted to vacuuming.
I looked out the window and I could see a cat leg stretched out over a cat body. The cat was having its own kind of shower. I, however, cannot lick my own ass. (My mother just shuddered and doesn't know why.)
I started watching Mon Oncle d'Amerique and it made me crave pastry. The French language is dangerous to my weight loss plan. So is this health kick, apparently. Yes, I know - most people don't use the term health kick when talking about things that are bad for their health.
My mother always said "Lisa, you aren't other people." That line came right before the "If your friends jump off a bridge...." question. And my mother regretted the question years later when she learned that I did, if fact, jump off a bridge because my friends were doing just that. Jumping off a bridge.
Except - full disclosure - I didn't jump because I really wanted to. I got ready to jump, changed my mind, but couldn't get back over the railing. There was only one way off the bridge. It was 33 feet down. In a sitting position. There's nothing quite as bracing as a creek water douche/enema. I don't care what anyone says.
I'm not saying it's more painful than childbirth, but there is nothing like it either so let's not quibble.
Today the sun is not shining and a thin veil of rain drizzles from the sky which is currently wearing its own veil of cotton batting clouds that have been stretched over a lamp. The sun is up there somewhere.
None of this will not stop me in my quest to accomplish Something.
I mean, when the ponytail holder got caught in my hair just now, I was quick and decisive. Thankfully, my aim with the scissors was good and I didn't lose too much hair.
And when MathMan called and reminded me that he's going out tonight, I was grateful for the reminder because I had forgotten our conversation from this morning. I bid him a good time with friends. He burped in my ear. There are special ways we show our love for each other. This is one of them.
I am cured like a ham. Or am I pickled?
Ham. That makes me hungry again. Except Garbo and her grabbing hands have probably been in the ham that sits waiting to be eaten in the refrigerator. I do not like to eat or drink after my children. I love them, but they are gross.
But I kiss the cats on the lips and they lick their own asses. Go figure. I'm an enigma wrapped in a mystery. Or I'm just gross. Yes - that's it. I'm gross so I don't share food or drink with my kids to protect them. The kids, not the cats whom I kiss on the lips.
Speaking of cats, I can hear a cat throwing up so I ask "What have you been eating?" As if I expect the cat to stop vomiting and answer me. I know they understand me. They simply choose to not answer.
Another cat has run to investigate the gagging and hoiking sounds. I've asked him to report back. It's a waste of time, of course. He will choose not to answer me either.
Garbo once wrote a story called "The Cat's Been Bad." It could have applied to any of our cats, but she claimed it was fictional.
Now I'm watching Office Space because if I watch a Prairie Home Companion in Spanish, I'll just end up craving Mexican food. That will not do because payday isn't until Tuesday. Dammit. And the Mexican restaurant out here in the middle of nowhere appears to have closed.
No, I am not taking drugs at the moment. I don't think. I've been hoarding my Phentermine since I won't get to see my dealer until at least next Thursday. No wonder my ass has been dragging - lack of speed will do that to a person. The coming down is tough.
You see right through this, though, don't you? It's not about drugs or lack of drugs or illness or cats or burping in my ear. You recognize work avoidance when you see it. I see you now, pointing at those boxes waiting to be packed. I relent because I know you're right.
It's time to get moving......
P.S. I have made it as far as loading up my car. I need a break, of course. Perhaps I'll eat some ham first.