lazy day and infectious disease

Guess I don't have "just" allergies after all. It would seem I have a cold. That's the little buggar right there that's causing me misery like no other. I mean, it doesn't take a medical degree to figure out that you don't get a fever with allergies. duh. And I didn't even have to consult my doctor husband for that one. Not that he's really talking to me today anyway. Apparently I hurt his little feelings this morning and he hasn't really gotten over it yet. Ok, I admit, I'm a little on the cranky side today. For cris' sake, I'm one sick woman! He does this thing...this 20 question thing that drives me AND the kids totally insane. It's constant. We've even brought it to his attention and he STILL does it. Here's the example from this morning that made him pout like a two-year old for the better part of the day. I'm in the family room which is right off the kitchen. I just finished a breathing treatment and he's in the kitchen paying the bills. (you don't EVEN want to know what we owe the IRS this year...it's enough to make you want to poke out your eyes) So...he's paying bills and having a good time writing check after check. He loves to pay bills so who am I to take away the poor guys thunder, you know? I haven't paid the bills in years. Ok, got off the track again, sorry. So he's sitting at the bar writing checks a plenty and I sit down next to him to look at something on the computer. All of a sudden we hear music...mystic kinda like music. He says to me, "Where's that music coming from?" I just sort of give him the "are you a complete and total idiot" look and say, "sounds like upstairs to me." Then he takes it one step futher, "Who's playing it?" 1. like I freakin' care 2. does it matter? So I verbalize this to him with the "are you a complete and total idiot" voice that goes along with the look of the same name. Well, naturally, he gets offended by this. He raises his voice at me and this is his comeback, "Well I thought maybe YOU bought the music and would know who is playing it!!" Let's see, there are two, count em, two, kids upstairs...and you pretty much have a 50/50 chance of guessing which one is playing the music. But again, who cares? So we spent the next 5-7 minutes arguing about stupid questions and how they make me want to scream. He said he wouldn't ask me ANY more questions and the really mean obnoxious part of me wanted to say, "Promise?" Yes, I know I can be a heartless bitch, but YOU try driving home from work with him every single night...walk in the house together and then have to hear, "Are the kids home? Who's Diet Pepsi is that? Is the front gate locked?" AAACCCKKK!!! So the poor guy decided it was time to go out and spray weed killer around the yard. Hmm, wonder if he was thinking of me while offing the weeds???? He was probably was...I know I would. But enough about that. Let's talk about me and my illness some more. Others make think I have a simple little cold that is making my asthma flare up like it always does. Oh no, people. I really think it's much worse than that. This is what I think I have
That's right all you microbiology freaks...it's Ebola. I ain't just a whistling Dixie either. Not that I can whistle but you catch my drift. I'm telling you, I feel like I'm dying. I coughed up an adrenal gland last night and my lungs feel like Bounty, the "quicker picker upper paper towel" that's been used to sop up 29 pounds of liquid. No, I admit that I haven't actually 'got' the symptoms of Ebola, but that doesn't mean I'm not super sick. Just ask me, I'll tell you. I actually slept today...a LOT. That's so not me. I was trying to do a little picking up around the house this morning, stopped to take a breathing treatment and turned the tv on while I was puffing away and then I ended up sleeping for over an hour. I know! I couldn't believe it either. Then I sat there for a little while and finished watching "Ferris Bueler's Day Off" and then basically passed out again when something else came on but I can't remember what it was. Criminy...what was in that breathing treatment??? My brain has felt like cotton the rest of the day. I was supposed to go to a birthday party tonight and I always LOVE her b'day parties, but I just felt like hammered dog shit and decided to stay home. And I had a lovely sweater all picked out to wear and everything. Damn. Here's a picture of it.
Lovely little item, wouldn't you say? I mean, it's the PERFECT outfit for a birthday party don't you think? Either that or possibly a Stephen King movie or an acid trip gone terribly wrong. I sure I can think of lots more, but I just don't want to right now. So there.

I'm going to take the advice of an old friend who told me yesterday that I need to take some time off and quit trying to be a perfectionist all the time and let somebody else take care of things for a little while. Thank you for that advice, and I'm going to do just that. No, really, I am. I'm going to get back into my jammies...save the sweater for another time....and chill out on the couch with Kris and watch 'Alien'. The laundry can wait...food shopping can wait...or somebody else can do it. So there.
Peace