Dear Mr. Echo

I have the plague.

No, no, don't worry, I won't be rolled out to the curb for collection. It's not that bad. Yet.

I"m holed up in my room, huddling inside my hoodie, eating clementines and hoping I don't pee my pants when I sneeze and cough. I know, that whole incontinence thing is embarrassing, isn't it? The upside is that I'm reminded to do Kegels which are their own special kind of fun.

"Why are you making that face?" MathMan asked me.

"What face?"

"I don't know. It's like you're concentrating really hard."

"Oh. I'm counting as I hold a squeeze."

"Pardon me?"

"I'm holding a squeeze. You know - Kegels. I'm counting to ten."

"I see."

"Is it bothering you?" I asked.

"No. In fact, it's kind of improvement over how you've been walking around looking all surprised."

"Ah. Yes. Thank you. I guess."

He's referring to the fact that I've been walking around with my eyebrows lifted up into my hairline. I noticed that my eyelids are starting to get puffy just like my mother's and I can't fucking afford cosmetic surgery.

So surprise it is or when I open my eyes extra wide -- shock.

Without Poise

Not really me. I don't look this great.

Still sick.  Cute Dr. Jayson said I have the flu and he sent me on my way with a pinch on my bottom (I wish) and a prescription.  Now he's got me huffing this relenza stuff.  I've never used an inhaler before and I'm a bit shilly shally with it.  I suspect the darned flu will have run its course by the time I've figured out how to use the inhaler properly.  Oh well.

In the meantime I tested the waters to see if I'm ready to be back at it.  Clearly, I'm not up to the task.  I vacuumed the living room and became winded.  Yeah, that was pretty stupid, but it's a good test to see how "well" I am.  Well being such a subjective word.  The truth is, and the female among us will agree, I don't really know how to be sick.  I'd have to be heavily sedated before actually taking to my sick bed and staying there. Sadly, it is how I'm wired.

Just this morning, I would have been quite happy to just lay about in bed, but my own body seems opposed to this idea.  Sophia needed a note for school and as I sat on my bed writing it, the sneezing started.  You guys know about that "issue" I have, right?  Well, I was mid-sentence when I sneezed in rapid succession.  Once, twice, three times.  I was holding tight and hoping.  I felt trapped.  The pen went skittering across the page and then it happened.  Sneeze number four.  I wasn't able to get up in time and I was so worried about not spraying the note with my toxic sneeze as I tried to bury my nose in my elbow and well, my grip loosened.  What's that you say?  Yes, I leaked.

Well, there's something to be said for useful items like Poise pads or the like, but I'll be damned if I'm willing to go that route yet.  And so my wimpy little Always thin absorbed as much as it could but not quite enough.  I finished Sophia's note, made the necessary adjustments to my personal concerns and stripped the damned bed.  The horror of it is that I had to remake it with un-ironed sheets.  Could things get any worse?

That's never a good question to ask, is it?

The phone rang at 10:28a.m.  I looked at the caller i.d.  The orthodontist's office! Oh no! Nate had a 9:30 a.m. appointment.  I coughed my way through telling the staffer that I'd gotten sick and completely forgotten even though I pressed #1 to confirm just the day before.  She graciously made another appointment.

"You wouldn't want me there today anyway," I wheezed.

She laughed politely.  "From the sounds of it, no."

And now I'm watching the clock because I'm to pick Sophia up at 3:15 from honor chorus.  If I don't keep reminding myself of that, I'm afraid that I'll be getting a call from the school at 4:00 wondering where in the heck I am.

Update:  I made it on time to pick up Sophia.  I drove halfway home with the parking brake still on.

It's not everything I've ever wanted from life, but at least I didn't pee myself.  That may be my new motto......

Dear Mr. Echo

Click the picture for more TMI.

I am officially too sick to write. My brain has taken leave, my typing fingers are in some kind of labor dispute involving Kleenex and hazardous nose waste. In case you'll be requiring a doctor's note, I have an afternoon appointment with cute Dr. Jayson that won't involved showing him my newly vajazzled nether regions. Unless, of course, he thinks that might help me recover from this horrendous crud. Who am I to question "alternative treatments?"

There is a bright side however. This presents a perfect opportunity to trot out this oldie, but goody....

Someone fetch me a petrol bomb, okay?

Until I'm more coherent and full of oxygen,

Bogey Bum

Good News Sprinkled with Sick

Oh for Cliff's sake. I've been infected by some mysterious bug that's left me achy, feverish and exhausted to the point where I'm so tired I don't even want to surf porn even though I'm home alone. People of the Internets, this is serious.

I'm no doctor, but I know it's not the influenza. I didn't get the shot for it this year because I thought I'd take a pass on that illness this year. I've never quite understood the appeal of the flu anyway, but whatever. If all those people want to get it, let them have the shots. Me? Not interested.

I could also be suffering from an adverse reaction to cleaning supplies since we went to the new house and gave it a middling scrub down before we start moving in. It was actually in great shape, but you know me - if I haven't doused it with bleach, scrubbed it with something abrasive and made it shine with the bluey ammonia goodness of Target's version of Windex, I'm not satisfied that it's clean.

So yes, there is good news and more good news. As MathMan puts it, we have new digs. There will be a new Golden Manor. Details coming shortly.

The second bit of good news is that on Friday I discovered the power of fucking around. Truly, I did. I'd made that arduous climb once again across the gear shift and console to climb out of my car's passenger's side door because the driver's side door was still mysteriously stuck. I'd become quite inured to the stares of strangers so as I did my quick moves up, over, across and out so I just ignored the astonished stares of the woman across from me at the gas station. She smirked a little as I sighingly flicked my hair out of my eyes and went about the business of pumping gas.

I stood there silently cursing the sloooooow pump and decided that I'd had enough of this car door nonsense. I fished the ignition key out of my jeans pocket and inserted into the lock. I turned, jiggled and wiggled it while tugging on the door handle. When the door actually gave way and opened with a pop, I jumped back and let out a little yelp of surprise. Now I didn't care who was looking as I did "Door goes open, door goes shut. Door goes open, door goes shut." and clapped by hands with glee.

After the gas finished it's slow dribble into my car's tank and the meter read "full," I happily got into the car using the driver's side door, closing it behind me and opening and shutting it three or four times in astonished wonder.

As MathMan so indelicately put it, though, it seems as if I've broken up with my gear shift. Oh, well. I'm overjoyed at not having to contort myself wildly each time I get in and out of the wretched vehicle. Oh, the simple pleasures in life.

So for now, I'll just sit here fighting the crud or ague or whatever it is. While the laptop burns vent marks into my legs, I'm testing out the healing properties of DVR recordings of British murder mysteries, copious pots of tea (PG Tips - thank you, my friend!) and those delightful lemon biscuits sent by Bee. I may be sick and tired, but I can manage to munch a few biscuits to keep up my strength. I'm also enjoying the companionship of a couple of cats who think that having cat butt in my face is a tonic for whatever ails me. They are dead wrong.

Will be posting nauseatingly boring pictures of the new Golden Manor soon. We're handling all the necessaries now - transferring utilities, getting television and telephone services sorted out and making sure that we'll actually have high-speed internet for a lovely change.

As for you lot, be well. Really. Because this thing, though an excuse to blog in bed, just sucks.
That's why.