As I mentioned before, I've been fighting off this cold for several weeks now. Seriously, I've been doing everything but mainlining Zicam and going to bed early and all that good jazz. And by the end of last week I was feeling pretty tired but still powering on through with the 50,000 things that I had going on.
Saturday morning, I got up for my 10K training class. It was a balmy 35 degrees (Gretchen is probably chuckling to read this) so I manned up and headed on over to the high school for the run. And I struggled, Lord how I struggled. I was downright pathetic, but I did finish and then ran over to the Y for Monkey Man's basketball game, then home before running to some silly Southern Living at Home party that Jay conned me into going to with her, then out for dinner with David and Yvonne. We were home by 8 PM but I was done. Through. Fini. Cooked.
By Sunday morning, I woke up feeling feverish and my freaking ears and throat were killing me. It only got worse, so I hopped into the shower and threw on some sweats to head over to the Doc in the Box. Yeah, I know - if I felt that bad I probably should've skipped the shower but I like to be considerate of the people around me and not smell like roadkill. Not to mention that it was a good thing I did because we were all packed like sardines in the waiting room.
Three hours later I walked out with two prescriptions and feeling like total hell. Home to bed and I stayed home yesterday from work. I think EPOD was wondering if it was the Post Super Bowl Flu, but honestly once he laid eyes on me today he knew better. I just look off, do ya know what I mean?
So in addition to all that, my beloved laptop has contracted some horrible virus thing. I mean the thing is just dead as a doornail and after running dozens of virus scans I finally handed it over to our IT guy today and am praying that he can give it some CPR so I can get it back. The sucky part is that my iTunes are gone, so maybe the Podmaxx software I bought a few weeks back was a good investment after all. Basically my blogging and surfing has been extremely curtailed due to lack of laptop and also my inability yesterday to sit upright longer than 15 minutes without feeling like someone was ramming an icepick in my ears. That's always a lovely feeling.
And to top off this lovely sundae of shitdom, this morning as we were getting ready to walk out the door our lovely friend Mr. Mickey Mouse darted across the living room floor. The stupid little bastards are back and I thought Joey was going to get a shotgun and blow holes in the floor in his frustration over our inability to get rid of Mickey and Company. Honestly, there isn't a damn thing left that they can get into and I suspect they're moving about looking for dining options, so hopefully when they figure out that the Builder Mama Mouseteria is closed then they'll move next door. I hear they like cheese there.
And still, with all of this going on, I haven't felt like killing anyone nor have I wished that I was alone on a desert island. I'm not sure what's up with this surge of cheeriness, but I will say that going off Yasmin has led to a huge improvement in my overall mood. I really didn't realize until a few months ago that there would be several times during the month when I could seriously have killed someone and not thought twice about it. Not to mention I was like a big, raw, open nerve that was ready to snap at any time during those times. And now...things just don't seem so bad. I'm happy about that.
The other week, during my blog hiatus, I decided one afternoon after work to stop at the Dillard's at one of the big malls on my way home from work. I parked on the back side of the mall because they have an entrance to Dillard's that is located right outside of two of my favorite departments - cosmetics and shoes (woo hoo!). My missions - to go to Clinique to get foundation and also to look for a dress to wear to a wedding reception. And I had about 45 minutes to do both things, so obviously I was in a little bit of a rush.
I dashed in the back door, making a beeline for the Clinique counter which is conveniently (or inconveniently) located right at the bottom of the "down" escalator. And as I got within 10 feet of the escalator, these two little old ladies came off the escalator. They looked like they were in their late 70's or early 80's, and they were obviously shopping together. One waited for the other to get off the escalator and they linked arms.
And yeah, I'm a bitch, but I was a little annoyed. I was in a hurry, and they were freaking in my way and obviously not in a hurry. But I slowed down and let them get situated and I slowly walked behind them until I could get to the Clinique counter.
Suddenly, the store intercom came on and paged, "Monique, please dial 125, Monique, dial 125."
The ladies were visibly startled, and one turns to the other and says,
"What the FUCK was that?"
I just about peed myself. I mean really.
"Yeah, I hate when they do SHIT like that!" replied the other one.
Holy cow, grandma! The language!
The scary thing is that I can totally see myself like that in about 40 years.
Have a good one, y'all. And say a little prayer for my laptop. It so deserves it.