Thanks to the ever so intelligent people that comment on this here blog, I got my home phone number changed. It was an amazing transaction when I got to the person I needed to talk to and told her my sob story. She has seven kids of her own and her mamma bear instincts were there for me. Free unlisted number? Check. Her personal email and direct phone number for when our name change takes place so I don't have to tell our story to another stranger? Check.
Now my daughter and I are dealing with horrible colds. Strep is going around at work and I'm hoping, by the power of grey skull, that we don't have it. Simply getting out of bed this morning was a monumental chore. It's times like this that certain realizations are really driven home to me: I would never make it to the summit of Mt. Everest.
Oh yeah, and single parenting sucks goat balls.
But then I have another realization. If STBX were here, would he really do anything to help me? Odds are, no. He would probably get sick as well and of course, his illness would be ten thousand times worse than anyone elses in the entire universe and we would have to light candles and pray to the blessed virgin for his miraculous recovery.
So, having to haul my shaking, freezing, sweating, coughing ass out of bed and take care of the dogs and wash my hair using the cream rinse first and then the shampoo, and then making an entire pot of coffee for just myself and my son and then realizing that I'm wearing my shirt backwards ended up being the first 45 minutes of my morning. After work entails picking up new glasses, taking daughter to work, taking son to Russian, grocery shopping, reversing the child drop off system, and then going home to more work on the garage sale. Doesn't sound like much but the gnomes gnawing at the lower lobes of my lungs are not liking it one bit.
Perhaps I should just run to Walgreens and get some Thera Flu or some other good stuff that is sold from behind the counter. I think this day would be best passed in a drug induced stupor.