The Bad News Is I'm Not Dying

I have been sick.

Sicker than a dog, sickety sick sick sick.

It started with laryngitis, lots of whispering and quiet moments at my house.

Then came the occasionally productive cough.

Then came the fevers.

I dreamed of my husband taking my children to church and giving me three hours of silent bliss.

Unfortunately, he got sick too.

So we were all home.

Monday I stumbled to the doctor's office and begged for antibiotics; he gave them to me (God bless that man!).

I took them all last week.

Wednesday I was feeling better, sort of. I got up, showered and went back to bed. I got up, washed the dishes and went back to bed. I had to conserve energy to start a dinner that my husband eventually had to finish. I canceled all sorts of appointments including my crossing-guard duty the first day back at school after break.

So today I was certain that despite the lingering bronchitis and its accompanying cough, I was well enough to live life.

I worked out (which only led to many coughing fits - you know, the kind where you cross your legs tight and pray with all your might that you don't somehow end up peeing yourself?) and I took Lulu to playgroup.

I then had to take a nap.

Then I volunteered at the school and I've made dinner and now I'm ready for bed.

But I have to go back to the school.

Will someone please convince the nice bronchitis virus that I'm really not a good host and he should go infest someone else?

Like a mosquito....

I think that would be a fabulous pairing, win/win as far as I'm concerned.

Anyway, the point of all of this? I think I will be blogging again.

Soon.

If nothing else, I'll start whining after the 22nd about how I'm lonely and how it sucks to be a single parent.

Six months of whining....aren't you stoked?!