As I tweeted yesterday, someone in the line after church, after asking me how I was, and me saying I was fine I was just on the front end of cold, said, “oh, a cold's not bad. At least it's not the throw up thing,' and I laughed and said, 'oh yeah, that would be terrible'. And then I came home and discovered that yes, indeed, it was terrible. Somehow, in some kind of weird cosmic mixup, I, and I alone, have lain here in bed for the last twenty four hours while everyone else went on with their bad cold, veritable pictures of robust health, comparatively.
So I haven't sorted out my After Pictures of the classrooms, which I had hoped to put up even Sunday night. And I haven't made email lists for something or other about Holy Week. I did try to stand up yesterday, sometime in the morning, and then sat heavily back down and cancelled my dentist appointment.
I have listened to a whole bevy of psalms. And I read a trashy mystery. And watched some Doc Martin, and, most inappropriatly but very very funny, Come Fly With Me (I think that's what it's called). I guess I shouldn't recommend it, but if you fly at all you'll probably gasp in horror but still laugh out loud.
And I surfed the internet so much that I seem to injured my elbow. Well, not exactly injured. You can't see anything wrong, of course, but it hurts most unpleasantly. And I impulsively bought some new spelling work books. And read tons of homeschool blogs. And ate things made of white flour. Blech.
Today I'm going to try again to stand up and shuffle down to my chair and weakly direct the children so that they don't continue to run amok. Matt has things to do and beating back the chaos shouldn't have to be included.
So, of course, I love you all, but if you were thinking of popping by, you might deeply regret it, unless you enjoy being ill. But you're welcome to feel sorry for me and use my life as a warning to you, not to congratulate yourself too soon, on not succumbing to those vile late winter illnesses that make you pray for death, as I did, even in church. May God have mercy on my soul.
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