which one is the real sick one?
Yesterday I was bombarded by some virus and found myself on the couch for 4 hours in the afternoon. Usually I have bounced around this house, seen the pool at the YMCA, ran 5 miles and justified making 4 lunches for *Mila*. We go to pick up *Steve* from the train in Burlington instead because he wants to go get some gigabytes on the way home from the local big box electronics store. After getting fed up with *Mila* and her distaste for grilled cheese sandwiches, which is all I can make at this point in the day. I had had enough. I dropped the cheese drawer out of the fridge, narrowly escaping my toes and said "Let's go to McDonalds". After all, isn't that why they put fast food drive thrus on the planet? For people like me? At that moment in my life? I had an epiphany there, sorry. We get to the GO station, and I have to admit that I slurped the last centimetre of chocolate milkshake from her cup, to hear the first of many announcements that the train will be delayed by 20 minutes. This is soon to be followed by a delay of 25 minutes or more. So, we sat for 30 minutes. I could barely see the dash from my blur of germs and yet I had to entertain *Mila* with stories about my friend, *Gina*. The story she enjoyed most was hearing how her parents met. My version did not directly correlate to her dad's version. Mine involved how *Steve* gave Gina & I a ride home from the bar that night and her dad's story was how cute my bum was. Yes, it was cute....then. When *Steve's* train pulled in and he got into the car he started to tell us how the train car he was on had an explosion on it and all the passengers had to move to a new train, that luckily came rolling along! Good golly, Miss Molly. I can hardly process his information at this stage as I am ready to die. My throat is closing in on itself and I have not yet had supper or McDonalds and it is 8 pm!
neo Citran goes here.
This morning we awoke to "I have a headache, can I go to the Y to swim today or do I have to go to school?" Today was a school day for her. She takes one lesson a week in Art and it gives her a taste of what the real world is like out there. It also reminds me. I'm a bit rusty in that department. It is amazing how quickly you forget what it feels like to get up at 6 a.m. and have a quick shower before facing the day.
We drove *Steve* to the train and hoped that he wouldn't explode today. All the way down the hill I noticed that *Mila* did not drink her milk, would not open her eyes and had skin that looked like the colour of my appliances (which are not stainless steel, they're plain ordinary white). She was sick. Really, truly sick. I had to get groceries and plunked her in the cart to do a quick shop. "Just stick to your list", I told myself. We made it through produce, onto the bakery when I heard the burp. You know the burp? The "going-to-barf-right-this-second-burp"? Yeah, that one. I just rolled into the deli section and WAAAHHHH! There is bile and spew all over her. Luckily, there was a deli dude beside me who offered his assistance and gave me some paper towel followed by soft napkins. I take it he had puked before too. A fellow customer heard the wail and abandoned her cart to see what was the matter. Not something that happens everyday. But greatly appreciated. When I went to pay for the groceries, there it was. I had placed the grocery bin directly under *Mila* and the spew was on the mango, the apples and all over the bin. Lucky for me, the cashier-who-refuses-to-pack (CWRTP) was my only option. Today was it. It was redemption day. I politely asked her to put the barfy towel in her garbage. Yay! Score 1 for me and 0 for CWRTP. Next I passed her the bin with the remains of bile and some barf that I covered up with a napkin. She now looked at me as if to say "Really, do you expect me to pack this?" I just rubbed *Mila's* forehead and said "oh, poor baby" and then CWRTP rolled her eyes slightly (I notice the slight roll being Highly Sensitive Woman) and began to place each item gingerly in the bin. Score 2 for me and -2 for her! I did it. I am even with CWRTP for all the times she's made me pack my own groceries while I've had more important things to do like pay and calm down my screaming child.
*Mila* has slept ever since. It is 2 in the afternoon and she's sleeping this whole thing off. The best thing for her, I suppose. All in all, sometimes germs are good. You can get revenge with people like CWRTP, have some peace & quiet to blog, run a few miles here and there. Avoid multiple meal preparations. God Bless Germs and the daycare centres who spread them around our world. Namaste.
signed, the willow
neo Citran goes here.
This morning we awoke to "I have a headache, can I go to the Y to swim today or do I have to go to school?" Today was a school day for her. She takes one lesson a week in Art and it gives her a taste of what the real world is like out there. It also reminds me. I'm a bit rusty in that department. It is amazing how quickly you forget what it feels like to get up at 6 a.m. and have a quick shower before facing the day.
We drove *Steve* to the train and hoped that he wouldn't explode today. All the way down the hill I noticed that *Mila* did not drink her milk, would not open her eyes and had skin that looked like the colour of my appliances (which are not stainless steel, they're plain ordinary white). She was sick. Really, truly sick. I had to get groceries and plunked her in the cart to do a quick shop. "Just stick to your list", I told myself. We made it through produce, onto the bakery when I heard the burp. You know the burp? The "going-to-barf-right-this-second-burp"? Yeah, that one. I just rolled into the deli section and WAAAHHHH! There is bile and spew all over her. Luckily, there was a deli dude beside me who offered his assistance and gave me some paper towel followed by soft napkins. I take it he had puked before too. A fellow customer heard the wail and abandoned her cart to see what was the matter. Not something that happens everyday. But greatly appreciated. When I went to pay for the groceries, there it was. I had placed the grocery bin directly under *Mila* and the spew was on the mango, the apples and all over the bin. Lucky for me, the cashier-who-refuses-to-pack (CWRTP) was my only option. Today was it. It was redemption day. I politely asked her to put the barfy towel in her garbage. Yay! Score 1 for me and 0 for CWRTP. Next I passed her the bin with the remains of bile and some barf that I covered up with a napkin. She now looked at me as if to say "Really, do you expect me to pack this?" I just rubbed *Mila's* forehead and said "oh, poor baby" and then CWRTP rolled her eyes slightly (I notice the slight roll being Highly Sensitive Woman) and began to place each item gingerly in the bin. Score 2 for me and -2 for her! I did it. I am even with CWRTP for all the times she's made me pack my own groceries while I've had more important things to do like pay and calm down my screaming child.
*Mila* has slept ever since. It is 2 in the afternoon and she's sleeping this whole thing off. The best thing for her, I suppose. All in all, sometimes germs are good. You can get revenge with people like CWRTP, have some peace & quiet to blog, run a few miles here and there. Avoid multiple meal preparations. God Bless Germs and the daycare centres who spread them around our world. Namaste.
signed, the willow
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