This was supposed to be a BIG weekend for me, folks.
OK, not the WHOLE weekend, just one marvelously childless, husbandless day known to you as Saturday.
MammaDawg, a fellow blogger who lives two towns away and who I've periodically met up with (children in tow, of course), and I had made plans to meet another awesome blogger, Ciara. Sans husbands and kids, we were going to enjoy a very talkative, uninterrupted lunch, followed by a movie (which includes my favorite pastime - gorging on popcorn, layer the butter please, thank you). Sure, it was going take a two hour drive to get us all to meet in the middle.
A small price to pay, I say.
So you can imagine my disappointment when MamaDawg emailed the night before to say her hubs was called into work over the weekend. Something about a zombie problem with the employees - all I know was that it would require a large cricket bat.
I was bummed. I thought about taking the trip myself and meeting Ciara anyway, but being a scant five weeks from poppin' a baby, Hubs wasn't keen on that option. And then when he heard the lung-burning cough that I woke him up with that morning, he was flat out AGAINST the trip altogether.
And, dammit, he was right.
I was hoping it was just gonna be bad in the morning, the way colds can be at their worst in the morning and then level out to barely a roar once everything has been loosened up.
That, unfortunately, was not the case.
I had fever. I had chills. I had to blow my nose every two and a half minutes. I've lost my voice on various occasions. I would periodically pass out on top of a bed of used tissues. I hate pills, yet I took the Sudafed and Tylenol religiously, because without them, I started wailing for the White Light to come and take me out of this misery.
And did I mention how hugely preggo I am? So, aside from my very limited list of meds I'm approved to take, all this lying around has given the ol' acid reflux lots of access to my already tender throat.
This really blows.
But I wanted to send a special "thank you" to MammaDawg's hubby and his brain-sucking zombi-ployees. Because, if she hadn't canceled, lung expelling cough or not, I would have rallied. I would have suffered through the two hours each way, fallen asleep in my food, and left the theater when my nose-blowing and hacking became uncontrollable. And Ciara and MammaDawg would have wound up in a heated debate as to whether or not they should just drop me off outside the hospital and come back for me later, or actually come inside and wait with me.
It's Day Two, and I think I might survive. Although my ribs are sore every time I cough. And Hubby just informed me, as he served up two more Tylenol, that if I'm still bad tomorrow, I have to go to the doctor. Well, he was right yesterday, so I guess I'll do as he says.
But only this ONE time!
Oh, and all this laying around and goopiness has caused the fluid retention that had begun to form in my legs to disappear altogether. See, there's a Silver Lining in every situation!
Disclaimer: This post was proofread by The Hubster before posting. Cause let's face it, anything I say, do, or write while in this condition has a serious chance of (at best) making me look like a looney toon, and (at worst) making me look like a psychopath!
