No, really. I got sick. My first indication of being that way was a slightly woozy, tired feeling that I attributed to not having had enough coffee after hitting the ground running. Then the headache set in, which I attributed to allergies. Everything Didge did started to cheese me right the hell off - which, frankly, is kind of par for the course. He lives for my reactions because he thinks I'm funny when I get mad, but I had a stellar reaction on Friday that surprised even me. We went out to pick up lunch, and as we were within sight of our neighborhood Ton Loc's "Wild Thing" came on the radio. Didge cranked the volume as we pulled in to our street, and drove around the block very slowly with the windows rolled down. I had food in my lap, so I couldn't hop out of the car and storm off (never mind that I started to). Instead, I had to sit and suffer in a state of supreme, exalted indignation. Once I found words, I spat out that such behavior was (get this, now - you'll love it): Common.
"This is just common. Let me out of this car. Stop. This. Is. COMMON."
Didge got quite a kick out of that. Once we were finally back in the driveway, I stomped inside, got my cape, tiara, and scepter, stepped out back to wave in the general direction of the serfs, and then had my lunch. Not really. I did have my lunch, but broke out in a cold sweat and felt my legs go shaky instead of parading about in queenly fashion. Then I got cold. Asked Didge to help Mom with the painting since I was really getting sick, and he plugged into a video game after giving me a smartass look. So I helped with the painting, and as soon as we were finished looked right at my mother and just *sat* *down* on the floor, making my way to a nice, comfy wall to lean against, saying, "Oh, man, this feels so good." I stayed there for a while. Mom ordered me to bed just before she left and told Didge to run the vacuum for me. (There was a trail of stuff from having dragged the futon cushion in.)
Mom and I were to have gone antiquing and to the Greek festival this weekend. Instead, I sat right smack in the bed sipping ginger ale and eating soup, blowing up Pinterest while staring woefully at a stack of magazines I couldn't be bothered to try to reach. Totsi the Dog would not leave me, and did alright until last night, when the boredom finally got to her and she shredded a free weekly after knocking all of her toys off the bed. Didgeridoo Boy stayed in the living room, having set up camp on his futon cushion, and actually let me be still and quiet. (I think he has a touch of this as well, because he has sneezed about fifty times since I started writing.)
Today? I've taken note that it's raining, which makes me wonder where the heck my beloved vintage trench is, and I keep reminding myself that I have a small list of things to accomplish before plopping right back down into bed to shop Chanel lipsticks. Yes, I am slightly drunk from cold medicine. Have a fabulous day, and here's to being a little more with it tomorrow!
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