Things That Are Out Of Control
I was sick for two days and the whole world fell apart. Or at least that's what it feels like. I don't remember parts of it, but as I pushed my way through a shower this morning, feeling half way human again, the consequences of my vacation in zombieland began to surface. The memories start to come back in flashes as a I pick up an old fabric softener sheet off the stairs that Aspen had been wearing for a hat. Oh yes. We did laundry yesterday. That explains the multiple pair of underwear in unidentifiable stages of cleanliness strung from the downstairs bathroom to the linen closet, where all unclaimed underwear go. It also justifies the stack of kitchen towels I was standing on at my bathroom sink this morning, confusing them in my post-sick-early-morning-blur for a bathmat. I'll wager that the laundry undertaking yesterday will ultimately result in MacKenzie coming home from school in my favorite Free People top since "someone" put it in her pile. Oh wait, Kizzie is home sick. I'd better go in and go through "her" clean clothes before she wakes up.
In my delirium I distinctly remember making an extra large pot of coffee for myself, thinking, completely irrationally, how I could heat up the leftovers this morning when I might be feeling a little better, thereby saving myself the extra work of making fresh coffee since I was sick the day before. When I am sick, things that make sense just don't really, at all. Sadly, the Extra Large Pot of coffee was completely gone. Like somebody had even sloshed some lukewarm water in the bottom to get the last dregs of coffee flavor out of it, gone. This compelled me to make fresh coffee, for better or worse, and question my sanity in remembering the giant pot I made and wondering where it went. And then I remembered Halle drinking something that resembled a mug full of chunks of hershey bar with a little splash of luke warm coffee-flavored water over it while we watched Murder She Wrote. Angela Lansbury ain't the only one solving mysteries here, y'all.
Being sick has also caused my jeans to not fit well. Maybe it's just that I don't feel that great yet, but I distinctly DO NOT remember eating much at all, especially when My Darling Husband sweetly offered to make dinner and it was an odd mix of chili dogs, top ramen and week and a half old stir fry. And yet this morning, my jeans were extremely difficult to put on, and unless I stand Very Still in One Position, they look terrible. All of them. Maybe I am swollen from being sick. Like my whole body is in a febrile swell that is causing nothing to fit and everything to tick me off. How one could possibly gain weight while lying around eating nothing more than chocolate cake and saltine crackers with butter is beyond me.
You know those days when every time you pass a mirror you just get sad because there is just no fixing what is going on in there? It's one of those days. It's just too much work to hold my arms up long enough to even put a bun in my hair, let alone makeup, or curls or anything that might give me the appearance of still being alive. Thankfully, Kizzie just surfaced from her sickbed and I have to say, I feel much better. It could be worse.
There are two more (visible) baskets of laundry to fold out here in the living room, which means I may be able to salvage part of my wardrobe once I reclaim my underwear from Aspen's drawers. I am WAY behind on avoiding all of my eBay responsibilities, a dereliction that I feel I earned by posted 1.5 years worth of feedback the other day. Feedback is not my primary concern when I am messing around on eBay. Unless it's reading my own. I do like attention. But now that my feedback is caught up, I really should take care of the auctions that I have been ignoring and questions like "is the inside seam of this item stitched with blue thread, or purple? and is the stitch a 1/4 inch or 5/16?". I don't know, and I don't care. And for the $5.16 that you will pay for this shirt, including shipping, neither should you.
Apparently at some point over the weekend, I painted my fingernails sparkly black. Not sure why. But I did. I even did a decent enough job I might not pin it on Aspen this time. So I guess being sick didn't turn out all bad. Maybe I will stay sick awhile longer. Then I don't have to wear my jeans just yet.
In my delirium I distinctly remember making an extra large pot of coffee for myself, thinking, completely irrationally, how I could heat up the leftovers this morning when I might be feeling a little better, thereby saving myself the extra work of making fresh coffee since I was sick the day before. When I am sick, things that make sense just don't really, at all. Sadly, the Extra Large Pot of coffee was completely gone. Like somebody had even sloshed some lukewarm water in the bottom to get the last dregs of coffee flavor out of it, gone. This compelled me to make fresh coffee, for better or worse, and question my sanity in remembering the giant pot I made and wondering where it went. And then I remembered Halle drinking something that resembled a mug full of chunks of hershey bar with a little splash of luke warm coffee-flavored water over it while we watched Murder She Wrote. Angela Lansbury ain't the only one solving mysteries here, y'all.
Being sick has also caused my jeans to not fit well. Maybe it's just that I don't feel that great yet, but I distinctly DO NOT remember eating much at all, especially when My Darling Husband sweetly offered to make dinner and it was an odd mix of chili dogs, top ramen and week and a half old stir fry. And yet this morning, my jeans were extremely difficult to put on, and unless I stand Very Still in One Position, they look terrible. All of them. Maybe I am swollen from being sick. Like my whole body is in a febrile swell that is causing nothing to fit and everything to tick me off. How one could possibly gain weight while lying around eating nothing more than chocolate cake and saltine crackers with butter is beyond me.
You know those days when every time you pass a mirror you just get sad because there is just no fixing what is going on in there? It's one of those days. It's just too much work to hold my arms up long enough to even put a bun in my hair, let alone makeup, or curls or anything that might give me the appearance of still being alive. Thankfully, Kizzie just surfaced from her sickbed and I have to say, I feel much better. It could be worse.
There are two more (visible) baskets of laundry to fold out here in the living room, which means I may be able to salvage part of my wardrobe once I reclaim my underwear from Aspen's drawers. I am WAY behind on avoiding all of my eBay responsibilities, a dereliction that I feel I earned by posted 1.5 years worth of feedback the other day. Feedback is not my primary concern when I am messing around on eBay. Unless it's reading my own. I do like attention. But now that my feedback is caught up, I really should take care of the auctions that I have been ignoring and questions like "is the inside seam of this item stitched with blue thread, or purple? and is the stitch a 1/4 inch or 5/16?". I don't know, and I don't care. And for the $5.16 that you will pay for this shirt, including shipping, neither should you.
Apparently at some point over the weekend, I painted my fingernails sparkly black. Not sure why. But I did. I even did a decent enough job I might not pin it on Aspen this time. So I guess being sick didn't turn out all bad. Maybe I will stay sick awhile longer. Then I don't have to wear my jeans just yet.