Weak Week

Oh my gosh yall! WHERE HAVE I BEEN???

Where HAVEN'T I been is more like it! (And the answer is anywhere but asleep on my couch.)

Blame it on the goose, got you feelin loose; blame it on the 'tron, got you in the zone; or better yet, blame it on the fact that I was running around in the snow with 500 high (ly contagious) schoolers last weekend during the height of stomach flu season.

I ended up missing two days of work. (Well, two days minus the 25 minutes I tried to come in on Tuesday before I was chased out of the building by my cross-wielding coworkers.) Despite being sick, I always secretly love the first day of staying home - you get to lay around; nobody expects you to do any housework; you get to ask your husband to fetch your water glass even though it's less than three feet from where you're sitting - it's awesome.

But for some reason, as soon as you venture into a second day at home, the magic dies. It seems no matter what you do, you're either freezing or burning up; you'd swear you've started to develop bed sores from sleeping so much; you're bored out of your mind and yet you can't bring yourself to put in a movie because a) that would require walking across the room and b) you have serious doubts as to whether you have the strength to keep your head up long enough to finish watching it.

Oh and then there's the fact that the fluffier* of your two dogs thinks the best way to make you feel better when you have a stomach ache is to distract you by jumping on your stomach! (Hey, he's a dog; cut him some slack. Also he's an idiot.)

THE END

*I think we both know I really mean fatter.