I'm sick: my husband is sick. At 6:00 I admitted defeat and went to McDonalds for 15 $1 sandwiches and 4 large fries. Don't know what the rest of the family is going to do for dinner, though. I wonder what the cashier thought when I pulled up alone in my little car and ordered all that food.
Speaking of which, the other day I was checking out at a store and was mentally complaining about the speed, or rather lack of speed, of the cashier. And then I thought it was a good thing she couldn't read my mind, because my internal tirade would have hurt her feelings. Then I wondered what it would be like if I could read her mind. She'd probably be wondering what that crazy lady was doing looking at her so peculiarly. And then I thought at the speed she was moving, she might not have enough brain power to do anything other than check my groceries. And then I thought I was still glad she couldn't read my mind, because that was downright mean. She was so slow I had a lot of time to think about it.
And on that same vein, I have 2 favorite checkers at WalMart. They are friendly and FAST and I walk up and down the isle to see if they're working before I choose a line. Because even if they have twice the people in line, I will still get out of the store faster with them. They recognize me now. I might go to the store way too often.
The thing that stinks about a high tolerance of pain is that I am still up making sure my children are fed a nice, nutritious dinner while my husband is sacked out on the couch. That is also what stinks about being sick when you're the mom. Poopy diapers don't wait till you feel better (although I have tried before).
Have you ever noticed that bad parenting makes for good blogging? I really, really care about all your entertainment. In fact, I have apparently been preparing for it my entire career as a mother.
I think that Emily Dickinson would have been a fantastic blogger. You know, as a well written recluse and all.
I tend to jump around a lot in my head. If you've ever talked with me IRL, you already know this. And I'm usually trying to stay focused. When I don't try, I start conversations with "Well what do you think about it?" Just ask my husband, he loves when I do that. And when he asks what "it" is I'll say, "You know that one thing." He loves that even more. Really, go ask. But you'll have to wait because he is asleep on the couch right now.
Apparently my sickness has removed my try-to-sound-consistent-and-normal filter and you get some of my pure randomness. I'm sorry.