Remember that post about my darling Paul being sick all week? Who knew the incubation period was this long? Now I’ve got it. Same symptoms, same moaning on the couch, same need for chicken soup.
My tonsils are the size of foosballs and it’s all I can do to swallow my medicine. My head, my joints, everything is one big ache. The fever, the flithers, the, the…
I’m a much better nurse than I am patient.
Paul’s been gone. The kids watched TV with me ALL DAY yesterday and I was not one bit sorry about it. Instead, I have never been so grateful for the Disney Channel. The dishes are piled high, teetering in the sink, but I don’t want to unload the clean dishwasher to get another cycle going because I fear I will contaminate the steam sanitized fresh batch.
Bless Foster Farms for inventing frozen chicken nuggets! And a big thank you to the Quakers for inventing cereal, without which my kids would still be clamoring on and on about their need for nurishment. Thank you Oreck for making a vacuum so light, my eight year old can push it around. And thank you Walgreens for having a 24 hour pharmacy drive through. All these things have played a crucial part in my surviving till now.
Paul is finally home. I’m hoping if I could just stay in my bed for one more day and let my white blood cells do their thing (my kids call this their “White Team”), maybe, just maybe I won’t cry when he goes back to work on Monday.
Oh, when is this amoxicillin going to kick in already?!