It has descended upon our house.
It started off innocently enough. Punk had a runny nose and cough. She'd just had vaccines, so I didn't worry.
Then it moved to my oldest child, who'd also just had vaccines. Still, only slightly worried.
Then it hit Boo.
I began to realize I had an epidemic on my hands.
It floored my husband, but he's a bit of a wimp and hypochondriac. I told him to take his meds and hush.
It went back after the kids.
Meanwhile, I'm standing with a bottle of Lysol in one hand, a snot covered tissue in another, the proverbial finger in the dike (no jokes!) trying to hold back the flood.
It got me today. I give up. I'm hoping to be washed away in dreams of Calgon and Nyquil.
I'm hoping I won't have to come back from a land filled with dreamless sleep and hot baths, of steaming mugs of tea and throat lozenges.
Hell, no, I don't like being sick. But, if I'm sick, I might get a few moments of peace.
After I lock the door, put in ear plugs, and yell that The Man is on his own.
No comments:
Post a Comment