My Sunday went along the lines of:
Mbfmmbgfzmmbfd.... Wonderful Husband lets me sleep in so I can dream I became a member of Congress and for some reason a lot of pancakes are involved.
Wake up.... Hey, I’m awake.
Go to church, come home.... Yay! I did things!
Eat lunch.... I’m on a roll!
All of a sudden.... Hmmmm....kinda sleepy.
Then.... Baby gets sleepy. Idea! Hold baby = work. But then I can sleep = sleep. Therefore work = sleep. I’m a GENIUS!
Then.... Baby and I wake up. Why am I awake? More important, where is my face?
Hmmm.... Breathing hurts. Walking hurts.... Owie.
Make supper.... I’m walking around like a short mucousy Ent.
After supper.... Weeeee........I’m magic!.........Illness has transplanted my brain to a whole new level of thought and time! I should blog! And fold laundry! AT THE SAME TIME!
Kids are in bed.... I try to fold laundry. It’s all crooked because I’m too dizzy to see straight. I decide to blog instead. For some reason, it’s really important to post something, even though my line of thought consists generally of “Husband - umbrella - cookie - help me - kitty cat - sparkly - leprechaun - i am writing now like a good writerrrrrrrr.....bmnkihf........ugcfxtd.”
Later.... I publish this gem, gulp down several Nyquil along with my usual sleeping pills, and head to bed. Promptly have disturbing lucid visions every time I close my eyes for the next three hours, before I actually fall asleep.
Monday.... Wake up to find I’m still alive. Weird.
More Monday.... The fog encircling my head still won’t lighten up. I am more mucous than woman.
Even More Monday.... Things happen. Probably. Because it’s now Tuesday.
Today.... Realize I don’t remember anything about Monday. The mucous ate my brain. Determine mucous = zombies. Or maybe zombies = mucous. Doesn’t matter, because according to this, I only have a 31% chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse anyways.
More Today.... Will head to a medic post-haste, if only because I’ve had a routine physical scheduled since October. Understand they can’t rescue me from this viral 5th layer of Hell, but at least I can complain to a professional.
Slightly More Today.... Published this post chronicling my experience with the common cold. Realize it might be poignant or interesting or something if I was actually living with something more serious, like cholera or ummm... bipolar depression. But no. I just have a cold.
Cough, hack, cough. The end.