even my eyeballs hurt
You guys! I'd like to invite you to a party!!
Are you excited?
Here are the details:
Reason: my pity party!
That's right. I'm having a pity party and you are all invited. I'm also writing this while still woozy from last night's Robitussin, so if this is weirder than usual, there you go. Everything's a little fuzzy right now and nothing's really making sense, and I kind of feel like I'm floating. Maybe I am? I can't tell.
The internet has a penchant for compartmentalizing things into different years. So do I, really. As soon as the ball drops, our lives are supposed to magically change and I just don't believe that happens. Life continues to ebb and flow despite the flip of a calendar. But I'm going to compartmentalize for a second and say that 2015 SUCKS SO FAR. January 1st was spent not being myself, flipping through instagram Whole30 posts while shoving more Christmas candy in my mouth. January 2nd involved very, very expensive car repairs that still sting when I think about them. January 3rd? January 3rd was supposed to be a grand day full of cleaning and organizing and everything that speaks to my soul right now. Instead, I woke up feeling like I had been hit by 17 trucks that left me with bronchitis. I spent the day curled up on the couch coughing and hacking and wheezing, convinced I would feel better after a good night's sleep. But then the body aches came! Not just any body aches, but the kind that set your whole body on fire. My throat burns as though a satanic sacrifice is taking place on it. My ears are fuzzy. My eyeballs feel like they've been doing bicep curls. As weird as it sounds, that's really what it feels like. My lips are so chapped you could scrape ice off your car with them. Yesterday I coughed so hard I threw up in the sink. The first trimester all over again! I ordered two beanies from F21 two weeks ago, and they still aren't here. Unrelated, but today this is a place for negativity and whining.
And then THE FEVER. And this time, the only prescription was not more cowbell. I spent literally all of Saturday night wide awake, stripped of my flannel pajamas and covered in cold compresses and trying to figure out when this fever was going to kill both me and the baby and when I should suck it up and tell James to drive me to the hospital. Somewhere around hour 6, my fever broke and I fell asleep as the sun was coming up. I don't remember any part of Sunday because I was half dead the entire time, daydreaming of my former life when I wasn't two people and I could Nyquil myself into oblivion without worrying about it. Now I have Robitussin only, which helps but also kind of doesn't. I also now have two doctors offices to consult with instead of just one. The OB nurse says "oh, it's most definitely Bronchitis" and my primary care doctor says "nope, you have the flu and it's nasty. By the way, please wear this face mask until you leave." She sent a prescription for Tamiflu to my pharmacy, and the pharmacist said "oh we're out of stock, and you probably won't find a pharmacy in the area who has it right now." I sat in the CVS parking lot calling other pharmacies in the area scream-coughing into the phone and begging someone to have it in stock. Remember when I used to be terrified of the doctor? And the phone? I don't even care anymore. SOMEONE JUST CURE ME, PLEASE.
The best part is that this is the first time in years that I got a flu shot. Aside from coming down with the swine flu in college (yes, the swine flu), I haven't had the flu or gotten very sick in a long time. But thanks to my doctor's urging, I got the flu shot a few months ago, and now I'm on my deathbed. I know the flu shot is no guarantee, but I have to laugh.
The good news? I haven't set foot at work since last year. My green teapot and I have rekindled the passion in our relationship. It has become my ball and chain and I would not survive without it. God bless the broken read that led me straight to you, right? It snowed last night and I can enjoy the view from the comfort of my germ-infested couch. I can finally finish season 7 of Gilmore Girls. At least I would if my internet would stop crapping out.
If you need me, follow the trail of empty cough drop wrappers. It will lead you to the couch, covered in 12 blankets, dirty mugs, Christmas candy, and surrounded by Christmas decorations that still haven't been taken down. I figure I'll worry about that once I can breathe with my nose again. I want a redo.