It's Easter, Dammit! Now Be Happy And Eat Your Chocolate Bunny
As is my job here, I need to let everyone know that Easter is just around the corner.
What? You didn't know. I know, I just found out myself the other day.
And with Easter comes delicious chocolate friandises, watching the kids hunt for chocolate eggs, and hiding chocolate from the dog so that he doesn't end up ingesting chocolate bunny ears and going into full chocoholic shock, and us ending up with a nice fat whopping bill for $4032 to save our dog from chocolate poisoning. Which, of course, we wouldn't. Because he's a poodle, and he's supposed to be smart, and if he's stupid enough to eat chocolate, then maybe this could be a way to teach him a lesson. Tough love, I call it. And saving a shitload of cash. Just kidding.
My job this week is to find exquisite chocolate to give to my loved ones. Because that is who I am, and what I'm about.
I wanted to go out Monday, but the flu had not yet let go of its heavy grip on my head, stomach and nethers, so inside I stayed, sipping tea and watching endless repeat episodes of Dog The Bounty Hunter, in-between which I ran to the bathroom and cried like a little baby.
Tuesday was also a no go. I made it to the post office, but that was all my body could handle. This flu, I tell you, is a bad one. I have been left without any energy, and every once in a while, when I least expect it, it lashes out yet another spiteful final hurrah at my guts, sending me tripping over myself as I run to the bathroom to die yet again.
Yesterday, I thought for sure I'd be able to make it out to do as any good wife and mother would for Easter. But, nay, it was not to be. Because although I had not eaten in an effort to keep my guts from coming out of my anus yet again, and my energy level seemed to be at an all-time high since about three thousand weeks ago, I was not given the chance because, just as I was getting ready to head out, the phone rang.
And I knew who it was. Call me psychic.
I knew it was the school calling, and that something had happened to Dee.
This time, he had fallen down six steps in the school. Although as the day progressed, the number of steps seemed to increase every time he told the story. We're now up to eleventeen.
So, I had to drop everything to run back to the school and comfort him, because he was really hurt and pale and needed his momma.
As I drove to the school, I saw a police car and paramedics parked in front, and I panicked, thinking Dee had hurt himself worse than I thought, and why didn't they tell me that when they called?!
So, I go running into the school, expecting hunky paramedics to be leaning down over little Dee, performing mouth-to-mouth. And then, of course, my mind goes wandering for just a split second, and I imagine 0ne of those paramedics doing a little somethin' somethin' over me, if you know what I mean.
But it was someone else they were there for. Can you say "Bad Day" at the school?
Anyway, I had to take Dee home with me, because he couldn't handle any more school. Which I thought wouldn't be such a bad thing because I could just get him all settled at home and then run off to get the chocolate.
But, oh no. Dee would have none of that.
"You can't leave me, Mommy. I need you," he said.
And that, my friends, was the end of that.
So, tomorrow, I've decided. I am not going to answer the phone, and I am going to go shopping, come hell or high water.
Because, everyone, I need to get these:
and this for Mr. Handsome, although I just noticed the picture is for Valentine's Day. Oh well, you get the picture.
And this for myself:
Because if those don't have "Happy Easter, Dear!" written all over them, I don't know what does.
You didn't think I was going to come away empty-handed after all that effort, did you?
P.S. Now my plans for tomorrow are somewhat foiled since I forgot I have a "woman's" ultrasound appointment first thing in the morning to get my uterus checked out to make sure there isn't some freaky alienoid growing in there. Figures.