I started to feel pretty run down on Monday, but I took some vitamin C and crossed my fingers, which surprisingly does the trick more often than not. But by the end of the work day, my throat was feeling weird, I was making stupid mistakes, and I definitely did not have pep in my step, although I’m not sure I ever do on a good day, either. And then HENRY made me take the TROLLEY home, which ended up being stalled for over 20 minutes because a drunk person was on the tracks so that was 20 extra minutes I had to sit there and breathe in what everyone around me was breathing out.
#blamehenry #vintageiOS #great #ohgreat #reallyfuckinggreat
The next morning, I woke up at 5:33am with Marcy on my chest and my throat hosting the Devil’s bonfire. I probably shouldn’t have went to work at all, because I spent all day under two layers and a huge blanket and was still shivering. Then Henry texted me and said Chooch called him from school and said he was having a hard time breathing (also, he told the school he has asthma, which he totally doesn’t), so he got to go home early and all I could think was I WANT TO GO HOME TOO! And then my supervisor was all, “Yo, you made these two really bad mistakes” which I don’t even remember doing, so can we blame my sickness and pretend that I’m not actually stupid? I just wasn’t myself.
But stupidly, I was still going to go to work the next day! Until I texted Henry to see if he could take me because I felt too weak to walk to the trolley and he was like, “OMG STAY THE FUCK HOME THEN.” And then it turned out I had a little bit of a fever, and Chooch was still sick, so for only the second time in 4.5 years, I called off work.
That time Dr. Henry advised me what to do when Chooch & I were “wick.”
Our day went like this:
Morning: We quietly rested. For about an hour. Then we were bored. Even though I should have been laying down. I sat in front of the computer, wrapped in a blanket and shivering, and attempted to finish writing a blog post while Chooch played some dumb video game while seemingly coughing up an entire rib cage. Then my friend shared a Cure-bashing article with me on Facebook, so I spent a good hour blowing my nose and plotting that “author’s” demise. Surprisingly, I only called Henry once, but when he told me he couldn’t just stop working and come home, I hung up on which is what I do when I don’t like his answer. Obviously, this happens a lot. So then he decided to suck up:
Fuck you and your Maple Waze pumpkin secons, Henry.
Afternoon: Around noon, Chooch decided he was going to go lay down in his room and watch his stupid videos on his phone, so I was like “YAY TV” until I remembered that I get bored instantly with watching TV. I put on Netflix and for some reason “Heavenly Creatures” was the first thing that was suggested and I haven’t seen that movie since it came out in the nineties so I decided to watch it and remembered that it is mostly pretty boring, but it also made me realize that this is basically if me and Christina had met when we were 14. I drifted in and out during it and at one point, I was lost in a world where all I could hear was Laura Branigan’s “Gloria” and that made me realize that I’ve heard that song THREE TIMES in ONE WEEK which seems like a joke, but somehow, it’s very real. I know what you’re thinking: where is she going that she keeps hearing this song? An aerobics class in 1982? No, just my bedroom. Some variety radio station which is right now at this moment playing the current Top 40 hit “Am I Wrong” by Nico & Vinz, apparently is being blackmailed by Laura Branigan. Luckily I came back to reality in time to SPOILER ALERT watch the one mom (“mum”–this was New Zealand) get her head bashed in by two brick-swinging teenagers. Good plan, guys. I called Henry during this shit show and he was like, “IT’S ONLY 1 O’CLOCK I CAN’T COME HOME YET” and it’s times like this I miss having a land-line with an old-school phone I can slam back into the cradle.
Then I started watching “The Innkeepers” and Chooch came down during this and was like FINE I WILL WATCH IT EVEN THOUGH FOR SOME REASON I DON’T LIKE HORROR MOVIES ANYMORE. What a boring, actionless movie. I vaguely remember seeing the previews and wanting to see it, but now I’m like, “OMG how was this even in the theaters?” There was only about a half hour left and still nothing had happened, so Chooch was like, “How much longer do we have to deal with this?” And then I was trying to explain to him how I knew certain things were going to happen because of context clues and he kept asking more and more questions so finally I was like, “Fuck it, I’m too sick to explain this. It’s because I’m psychic. I know all this shit because I’m fucking psychic.”
Earlier in the day, Chooch had pointed out that his heart was beating really fast. Like a good mom, I decided it would be a wise idea to follow up on this, so I asked him if it was still beating fast. He placed his hand on his chest, and with a shrug, he said, “No….now it’s not beating at all.” OMG WHY DOES HENRY LEAVE US ALONE TOGETHER. (Real time aside: Chooch and I are arguing over who has been sick longer. Oh wow, so he’s got half a day on me, but who had more of a fever? ME. That’s who.)
I decided to watch Hemlock Grove, because it was on my Netflix list, and what else did I have to do but half-lay on the couch, whimpering with my arm slung across my forehead? It pretty much immediately started with SEX AND BOOBS so I was like GO AWAY CHOOCH! and he was like I WANTED TO GO ON THE COMPUTER ANYWAY, BYE! So he watched his dumb YouTube videos on the computer with his headphones on and I tried to stay focused on the TV but it’s just not my thing. I thought at one point that maybe it would be nice to get dressed and go sit in the sun, but every time I stood up, my body was like NOPE.
I don’t do “sick” well. A few weeks ago, some of my co-workers were talking nearby about how babyish and helpless their husbands become when they’re sick and all I could think was, “Ha-ha, Henry doesn’t get that way at all. But that sounds familiar….OMG that’s ME when I’M sick! They’re describing ME!”
Then one of the characters on Hemlock Grove SPOILER ALERT turned into a werewolf and I cried to Chooch: WHY CAN’T YOU BE A WEREWOLF?! God, he’ll never be good enough. And then I became super giddy when I realized that one of the guys looked familiar to be because HE WAS ON DEGRASSI. So then I was going to see if Degrassi was on Netflix but I got distracted by my constant need to moan and essentially go down the list of onomatopoeia for “common cold.”
I’m pretty good at sound effects. Little known fact about me that my blog doesn’t convey.
EVENING: Man of the Year FINALLY waltzed through the door sometime after SIX O’CLOCK. That’s just madness. And because he was carrying a bag of Maple Waze pumpkin secons (which turned out to be maple glazed pumpkin cookies) and a box of cupcakes from Vanilla Pastry Studio, all is supposed to be forgiven? Kind of like when a husband cheats on his wife after work with a tranny and then brings home some chocolate FOR NO REASON. I mean…it helps. Don’t get it twisted.
So we accosted him before he had a chance to even make it to the dining room. “Ugh, you both have those whiny eyes” he groaned as we started fighting over each other to tell him in high-pitched voices how sick we were. There was a lot of HELP US WE’RE DYING!!! exclamations going on and instead of taking our temperatures, that asshole looked at the TV and said, “Oh, you’re watching Hemlock Grove without me? That’s nice.” I WAIT FOR NO ONE.
“Did you give him any cough medicine?” Henry asked me.
“No,” I casually answered. “He said he didn’t want any.”
“OMG,” Henry sighed. “It doesn’t matter what he WANTS. You give it to him anyway!”
Sorry, I thought this was a Pro-Choice household.
“Did we get anything in the mail?” Henry casually asked, as if I wasn’t languishing on a bed of disease right before his eyes.
“I DON’T KNOW! YES! I CAN’T REMEMBER! GO FUCK YOURSELF!” I screamed. UGH stop making me have to THINK!
Then Marcy made her first appearance since breakfast, cautiously coming down the steps and peering into the dining room. “I know Marcy. I’d hide under the bed from the sick kids, too, if I could.”
Fuck you, Henry.
He didn’t even don his frilly apron and make us faux-chicken noodle soup. We gave him the easy way out and told him he could just order dinner from Giovanni’s which normally would have great but I couldn’t taste anything, so that made me even bitchier.
And then that sonofabitch went to bed at EIGHT THIRTY because he was SO TIRED. Are you fucking kidding? You come home and half-assedly tend to us for two hours and then oh my god, you’re suddenly SO TIRED now?
“I can’t wait until YOU get sick!” I shouted to him, which resulted in my head feeling like it was being curb-stomped. “We’re not going to give a shit!”
“You never do,” Henry shrugged. “And besides, I’m able to take care of myself.”
UGH I HATE HIM. SMUG MOTHERFUCKER!
Today I’m on late shift, so I got to have time this morning to get my bearings. I feel much better than I did the last couple of days, but still a little off. I don’t get sick very often, so when I do, please forgive me but THE WORLD IS ENDING. Chooch conveniently doesn’t have school today, so he’ll get an extra day to recuperate. He gets this awful cough several times during the school year and it usually results in him needing breathing treatments. Henry mentioned this last night and Chooch’s reaction was to pump his fist and cry, “Yes!”
And now I will end this with a sincere “You’re welcome” to everyone who did not have to deal with us yesterday.