Monday's Check List

Kleenex. Check.
Nasal spray. Check.
Inhalers. Check, check.
Dayquil. Check.
Nyquil. Check.
Vick's Vapor Rub. Check.
Cough drops. Check.
Chap stick. Check.
Kleenex.  OH CRAP-O-LA THE BOX IS EMPTY.

Somewhere between Farmington and South County this horrible illness grabbed a hold of me and won't let go. The throat aches. The ears are clogged.  I can't breathe out of my nose.  I can't stop blowing my nose.  At times I can't stop my nose from running like a faucet.  Now I can't stop coughing, which has brought on a wheeze and a grab for the inhalers. I considered using some of my banked sick time today until a text came in from my BWF who said she was home sick with a stomach bug.  Then that dedicated employee syndrome kicked in...shot of Dayquil with an orange juice chaser, out the door--in body not in spirit.  My every move was so robotic today it's hard to remember how I got from point A to point B.  Not to mention with Fall on the breast of nature it was a blazing 90* making recess duty feel like a jail sentence.

I came home shed my professional wear for gym shorts and a tee, curled up in bed and vegged.

I made a semi-homemade chicken soup (semi-homemade is when you buy a baked chicken and frozen carrots...anyway Sandra Lee would be proud). Ate. Went back to bed.

I feel no healing powers from the chicken soup.  Who decided this?  That chicken soup heals?  It was tasty with it's fresh spinach, carrots, corn and noodles....but the doctor's office is still awaitin' me!

From the time I walked in the door this afternoon to the time I woke from my sick nap Princess A's bedroom went from Laura Ashley pink and light olive green to a bright lilac and grey.  Off came the flowered spread and on goes the white on white polka dot spread.  Gone are the marks of a childhood and welcomed are the marks of a girl inching towards twenty-one-- womanhood.

In one room M types away an English Lit paper, while D dinosaurs around the house in her PMDD state of being.  King Ralph, God love'm, he tolerates it all.      

Tomorrow.  Well that's a trip to the doctor before deciding if the truck should continue down the road to school...I mean work.

I feel like CRUDD!