Naw. I'm tired. Didn't sleep well on Thursday night, wasn't sure if they'd call school off again for Friday, and then I kept having to pee and had a bad dream and had to pee some more... anyway, I am sure I got at least four hours of sleep. But not four hours in a row, oh hell no.
And now I'm reduced to little bits of thought, boiling and bumping around in my brain, bashing into the sides of the soup pot that holds the contents of my consciousness.
I find myself drifting off into the realm of run on sentences, fragments that don't make sense even to me, melancholy because I'm sleepy and feeling sorry for myself.
Low points? No sleep. No chocolate around the house. House needs some serious cleaning. Again. Does anyone ever catch up? If they do, they're not me. I've got athlete's boob again. Yeast. Wahoo. My knee hurts, although wearing the (heavy, cumbersome, itchy, constantly needing adjustments and driving me insane) brace has allowed the inflammation to subside from the latest injury, and I'm grateful for that. I had started to get caught up with the mess in the back room at work, and Eric was going to build me some shelves to help complete that task. It hasn't happened. He ended up going back to work, which is good of course... but I never got my shelves. And I'm not going to nag him about it, he has a lot to do.
High points? Thursday was Eric's birthday. I had the bonus day off from work... and we were able to spend most of the day together. I am glad we still want to spend time together and that we still get along.
We did the grocery shopping. I got an old lady cart with a HORN this time. A teeny, shrill sounding little horn.. beeeeeeeeeeeeeep. And when he harassed me, as he is prone to do, I just beeeeeeeeped at him. It was hysterical. You probably had to be there.
I love my job. Fridays are a gift. Fewer kids than on other days, more time to play in the gym and just... hang out.
I came home to a baked chicken and brown rice. Eric did a glaze on the chicken that included mushrooms, baked almost crispy on top.
Oh. My.
A gastronomical orgasm.
Sorry.
But wow.
He served me dinner. Wouldn't let me get my own, "You need to sit and relax," he said. "You're old. And gimpy."
I needed a horn.
I'm pondering perhaps getting a whistle.
so long as you didnt dream of peeing...could be disastrous....
ReplyDeleteold and gimpy..thats me LOL
nice to be fussed over occasionally , dinner sounds scrummy :)which reminds me I better go check the lasagne.
Well if this is you strung out from lack of sleep, you're doing fine girl! And THANK YOU for that nugget of reassurance, no, I NEVER get caught up on the housework, I've long since given up on even trying. Eric sounds a sweetie.
ReplyDeleteThat dinner sounds heavenly. Send me some leftovers. Oh, and get some rest.
ReplyDeleteAwww, what a great husband to fix you such a scrumptious dinner! Yeah for him!
ReplyDeleteI hope you get rested this weekend and are ready to head back to work on Monday!
I think a whistle is a marvelous our idea!
ReplyDeleteI used to give my husband the finger. And, on his days off, I'd count how many times he got the finger from me. Now, I just say a number. "You're on number 4 today, knock it off!!"
gastronomical orgasm!!
ReplyDeleteI can see it now... horns a blowin' in the store.
ReplyDeleteIt's a good thing we don't live in the same area, Almost Hubs threw out his back this week, both of you could have raced the carts around and Eric and I could have been your pit crews. ;)
Maybe just a bell, like the ones in offices when you want services. Ding!
ReplyDeleteI really good whistle... Sounds good to me!
ReplyDeleteA man that can cook is totally HOT!!!