Sickety Sick Sickiness

On top of the twelve days of PMS coming to an end, it became very apparent yesterday when I got up that I was SICK.  Not just a little under the weather, sickety sick sickiness.  Like I can’t get up sickness.

I’m not sure what exactly got me up in the morning.  I know I didn’t WANT to get up because I was having a really fantastic dream.  At least I think it was fantastic because Tony Stark was in it, and I think we were volunteering or something together (do superheroes do volunteer work?  Or is being a superhero in itself volunteering).  There were lots of cups or something, so maybe it was a wedding instead.  Uh-oh, did I kill off Pepper Potts?  Don’t get me started on my whole IronMan Robert Downey Jr fascination because I don’t really understand it either.  The guy plays a jackass and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one in real life too.  Then again I guess it wasn’t THAT good of a dream, because where were the rest of the Avengers?  At least the Thor admiration makes sense.  Anyway, I should have just stayed in bed.

We’re actually already on to Day 2 of Sickety Sick Sickiness.  You’ll have to excuse the typing. I’m trying to type while laying down.  Not an easy feat.  I can’t sit up because I may puke.  It’s a cruel joke, feminine monthly woes on top of a nasty virus.  Yeah, I’m laughing on the inside.

I haven’t been puking but I imagine this is the amount of sympathy that I probably would get from my cat…

I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m hot, I’m cold.  My stomach may rupture any moment-I may have one of those aliens in there.  I’ve slept on and off all day the last two days, trying to get back to figuring out what that dream was about.  At one point yesterday I went up and laid in bed, but that did no good because then I was joined by two little girls-a furry one and a not furry one.  They were not about to let me rest.  The dog lays on me when I’m downstairs.  He DOES NOT help the feeling hot issue.  I think he thinks I’m dying-he can’t handle that thought.  I DO feel like I’m dying.

I’m a MOM, and of course part of the job is pretty much no days off.  I must admit the kids have been pretty good.  My son had a no school day today, and he has done a pretty good job of keeping his sister somewhat entertained.  However, the house is worse of a shambles than usual.  My goodness this would be a great time to have that automated house that does everything for you.  I’ve TRIED to do stuff.  Last night I went in and tried to get supper started in between bouts of nausea and dizziness.  I didn’t get very far.  I was extremely happy today to find one clean pan to make the kids the last box of Kraft mac n cheese in the house.  Yay!  Easy lunch.  Back to the couch.  The fan is blowing right on me.  I can’t eat anything…  I tried.  The results were not pleasant.

So if there aren’t any entries on here for awhile, it’s because I died.  They can bury me in the garden with all the weeds.  While I’m laying here waiting for some relief maybe I can figure out what the heck that dream was all about…

So now this has me wondering-is being a superhero a form of volunteerism?

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