I’m pretty sure I have the flu but I’m too bleh to go to the doctor so I’m lying (laying/lying? I’m never quite sure of the correct usage of the verb “to lie” and whenever I encounter it, I wince at the cost of paying off my student loans…) on the bed going bleh.
I’m also pilfering last year’s stockpile of Tamiflu. I know it’s probably past its sell-by date and I shouldn’t, so arrest me.
I have nothing to write except that I’ve got the flu and it sucks. It’s hard when you’re the mom and you’re sick because no one really cares, you know? Let’s be honest. I may be feeling like crap but as long as I’m able to get to the potty without any assistance no one really really cares. They’re kids.
And as for husbands – mine is working. He checks on me every now and then to make sure I’ve still got a pulse. He brings me tea and Theraflu and was able to pick Fiona up from her dance class last night because I sure couldn’t. He also tells me to go to the doctor – I just can’t muster up the energy to get there, so I’m writing this poor-me blog post.
In general, people don’t care about moms when they are moderately sick, and somewhat functional (i.e., they can drive).
I apologized to my family yesterday and informed them that I’d be better today. Driving to pick them up from school wiped me out, so when we all got home all I could do was watch Season 2 episodes of Downtown Abbey on Netflix and cough at them, then stagger to bed.
I told them I’d be better tomorrow.
Today is tomorrow. Oops. Yesterday I told them I’d hoof it to the doctor if I still felt like crap and now here it is tomorrow and I’m not hoofin’ it.
So I’m off to pick them up from school (this takes an hour), then I’m going to lie (lay?) on the couch and cough and watch some more Downton Abbey and be perfectly useless.
Tomorrow I will go to the doctor.
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