Long Weekends Are Great Illness Inducers

I've spent this long weekend sitting at home, on the couch, mounds of snotty toilet paper around me, as I battle my second bad cold of the year. Well, actually, it might very well be my first of the year, because that other thing I had back in April, I think that was a full-blown influenza. Maybe even a precursor to the H1N1 Swiny Flu: the Piglet Flu.

I think I might finally be turning the corner, because my head no longer feels like a ball-peen hammer knocked on it for about 27 years straight, and my throat now only feels like semi-sharp shards of glass are poking it instead of a steady stream of brand new, hot razor blades. I'm still coughing, though, but it's more of a controlled hack instead of a full-blown phlegm-spewing lung storm.

I had big plans for this weekend, my last weekend before I am once again gainfully employed and can no longer sit on my ever-widening ass and eat crumpets while I blog/boss the kids around/think about doing a load of laundry.

No, folks, those days are over.

Because now my weekends will be work. They will be used to catch up on all things extraneous, such as groceries, washing underwear, and trying to figure out ways I can do my job from home because I like to stay in my sweats all day long, with unkempt hair (love that word, "unkempt"), allowing the occasional gaseous emission as I please. Speaking of which, I'm not sure how to accomplish the old fart in an office cubicle. Although, I could do as Mr. Handsome does, and have his portable fan blowing full force in all directions, dissipating said gaseous emission so that no one really knows where that god-awful Smell of Hell came from. He's tricky, that Mr. Handsome. That's why I love him.

The long weekend began with me bringing Em to the airport early Friday morning. She was on her way to a weekend teen camp about two hours northwest of Toronto. She was excited to be going on a new adventure, and I was excited because it meant four days without monster fights between her and Dee, which meant my stomach wouldn't be in a constant Carrick Bend knot.

The tickle in my throat started last Tuesday, and by Wednesday night, I knew I was getting sick. By Friday morning, I looked and felt like this:


Notice the bags under the eyes, the lolling tongue, and unkempt hair.

I came home from the airport, and promptly lay on the couch for the remainder of the day.

I barely slept that night, and awoke early Saturday to a very swollen head, achy joints, and a hacking 80-year-old smoker's cough.

I didn't feel too bad doing absolutely, positively nothing that day because it was grey and cold and no one in their right minds would have been doing much anyway (except our neighbour across the street, who cleaned out his van again). I felt a little bad for Dee, who was left to fend for himself most of the day since I was in no shape to do anything but sob and moan (more than I usually do), and Mr. Handsome ended up taking a three-hour nap himself. Let's just say Dee became very acquainted with his books and the inside of his nose.

That night, I decided I was going to do whatever it took to feel better. I needed the sleep, and a little less snot pouring out of my nostrils would be a nice change. So, while 'the boys' watched Lethal Weapon at about volume 49, oohing and aahing everytime the blood spurted, or a nipple appeared on the screen, I went to bed. I tried to stay up, because how often do you get to watch a classy movie like that with your two favourite guys, especially when a very young and virile Mel Gibson is staring back at you with those striking blue eyes? But, as luck would have it, my bowling ball head refused to stay upright.

I made my way upstairs and into the bathroom, and started pulling out bottles and tubes and any and all other paraphernalia I could find. The bathroom counter looked like a pharmacy, something of which I'm pretty damn proud, because we always have something on hand for most any ill of the moment. I grabbed a couple of sinus pills, five extra strength Tylenols, my anti-inflammatory (arthritis never sleeps), and then sprayed my nostrils generously with some Otrivin. Yeah, that's right. I threw all caution to the wind and just didn't care anymore. Because that's the kind of woman I am. Fierce. Determined. And drugged out of my bloody mind.

Let's just say I didn't move until 7 a.m. Sunday. And on the Seventh Day, the world was good. And Woman smiled, and looked down uponst herself, and decideth that drugs are a mighty goodly thing.

This day was a better day, with less cough, snot and horking going on overall. I only went through half a roll of toilet paper, as compared to two rolls the day before. Although it was a better day outdoors, I decided it was better to just stay put, catch up on my lovely blog friends, and whine to myself. I did want to go buy some flowers to plant, but decided it was a no go. Especially since the weather people were warning of frost in the area overnight, which I think might very well be a first for this time of year.

And Monday, folks, was even better! Still sick, but I actually had more energy than I normally have when I'm supposedly feeling fine! How is that even possible? I did three loads of dishes, showered, and cleaned up my bedroom a tad. I also had enough energy to pick out my outfit for my first day of work, pick up Em from the airport, and make dinner. I felt better as the day progressed, which, again, is a complete anomaly to how my days usually go.

I was supposed to go to my sister-in-law and brother Woodnymph and Adonis' house on Monday as well because they were having a showcase of Woodnymph's artwork, but I decided the chance of passing this wretched virus on to them was too much, especially with Woodnymph's delicate system. Sorry guys. Next time, try to time things better, okay?

Of course, it really sucks that I felt so crappy for most of the long weekend, because just imagine the things I could have done with my time! I could have thumb wrestled with Dee, watched Mr. Handsome mow the lawn, and texted Em at her camp (despite the fact that she was not supposed to have brought her cell phone with her, but imagine the fun if she had gotten in trouble!).

I'm trying to look at the silver lining in this grey cloud, folks. Because that's how this girl rolls. So, at least I'll be in fine shape to begin my new job, which starts today, and not end up making half the office sick. Because that wouldn't be such a great way to start a job in a relatively small office. It's going to be hard enough for me to get along with everyone.