Look, I’m trying to write this heartfelt Christmas post but
my head is all like glub-glub-glub and sleeeeeerrrrnknt and stuff. According to
WebMD, I will be dead within the hour. I
think I have a cold, and those are rarely fatal, to my knowledge. Also, I am a
woman, and as such, am obligated to carry on. So here I am, traipsing on like a
brave soldier, like a Kardashian with a broken ankle, still wearing 6 inch
heels. I hope this is inspiring.
Today I went grocery shopping with my cold. Feed a cold,
they say. Luckily the MOG was working from home, from our room, actually, where
he has temporarily? moved his desk and large books about Ephesians or something,
so that he can talk to me while I’m sleeping.
Him: Type type type type type,
Me: sleep sleep slee-
Him: Say things, lots of things
Me: offer barbed input
Him: “No, that’s not it.”
And so on. Anyway, he was in his “office” and so after some
brief negotiations involving diapers and sandwiches, I was sent out on a solo
mission to retrieve food. The thing about having a cold is that you feel
drugged even when you aren’t drugged. I mean, your nose is all slornkty and
your brain is all like slo-mo and your legs are all like clob clob clob. You
know.
So I drove and all the world I was beholding was new, like,
was there always a stop sign there? Where is that road I drive on every day?
And then I got to Walmart and I was all like, okay, you brain, okay. Enough of
this, time to sharpen up and do some efficient shopping. So what would be the
practical first- I’ll just wander over here and then it will come to me, what I
am shopping for. Diapers. And Bread. And wipes. U-turn. And Milk. And Kleenex.
U-turn. Wandering, wandering, sneeze a little. U-turn. I got the food, I got
all the food. I got so much food that 2 separate people made jokes about just
coming to my house to eat. Feed a cold.
And then I got a cheeseburger, possibly my last for a year,
and I was driving home when I remembered that I was supposed to be working out,
right that minute, right when all I was stretching was my stomach capacity.
Feed a cold, that’s what they say, and I am dedicated to my health.
Oh, and Christmas was good, too. More about that after the
sleerknting is over.
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