Apparently I tested the waters one too many times over Christmas break, and the odds have turned on me. Bounce around with a family of flu-ridden, strep throat-havin’, ear infection-totin’ sickies, and your bound to get sick.
I would like to thank you, random illness #43290034, for waiting until my first official day back to work before landing with a jarring karthump on my brainstem. As nice as it was to sail through Christmas with family, birthdays, and (lest ye forget!) my wedding, free of a snotty dripping nose, bleary, red eyes, and oh-yes, the attractive mouth-breathing wheeze that I currently have going on, it’s a bit of a constraint to dazzle and delight 19 nine and ten year olds all day when I just want to slap a nipple on a bottle of Nyquil and crawl into bed.
Also, dear illness, I’m not certain what it is that you have going on in the general region where my neck meets my oddly-weight-infested head, but enough is enough. If I could reach in and pull out the ongoing agony that has become the base of my skull, I would obligingly do so. Just tell what tool is necessary: power drill? Rusty spoon? Bleach-soaked tweezers? Flame gun? I do not care. Just please, give a poor white girl a chance. I have children, for cripes sake. Think of the children!
I’m afraid that if I don’t stop sneezing, gagging, coughing, blowing, and generally hacking what’s left of my lungs into all these tissues, I’m going to be arrested by some newfangled committee for green living. I’m quite sure I’ve killed half a rain forest. This is particularly sad, as I am an avid lover of rain forests, rain, forests, and all things included in aforementioned rain-forestiness.
I do, however, love the fact that although I cannot seem to grasp the use of the English language enough to speak to anyone (Isaac was momentarily stunned earlier this evening as I babbled unintelligibly for several seconds, without much of an attempt to right my conversation wrongs), I can happily sit in front of my trusty lapple and bang away at the keys for as long as I damn well please.
And no one can do a thing about it. With great sickness, comes great power! Mua.ha.ha.