My youngest and I are still battling whatever bug that decided to ravage our bodies. She has started on antibiotics because her cold moved into a sinus infection. I am not quite sick enough to go to the doctor, yet. I am the type of person that only goes to the doctor when I am fairly certain I will die if I don't.
Everything about going to the doctor is awful for me- the waiting room full of people (sick, snotty, coughing people at that), the smells, the 3 year old magazines coated in bacteria, the poking, and prodding, the freaking weigh-in. What is with that anyway? It isn't like I am a growing toddler so the doctor needs to exactly calculate my medication dosage. He should be able to eyeball me and give me the dosage appropriate for a small rhino.
I think it is all part of the 'fun' package that comes with a doctor's visit- aggravation and humiliation. Gynecologist's must feel like the Disney World of the medical profession.
Anyhoo, I still have use of most of my lungs and haven't been delirious enough to schlep to the doctor's yet.
Instead, this morning, I was woke at the obscene hour of 8 am by maintenance men. For the nest 3 days I have to deal with them in my basement as they paint. You see, that is their 'high tech' way of combating mildew in the basement. I suppose it is too late to properly build the house and no one wants to be bothered to really fix anything. Fine by me- the paint kills the immediate problem and I am not the one that has to come back to paint each year. In this case, incompetence is actually a very ingenious path to job security.
I know I sound grumpy today, because, well, I am. I have a smashing headache. It is pouring rain for the third day in a row so my vegetable patch isn't tilled yet. I have a pile of dishes to do ( really hate dishes...really, really, really...if I weren't so concerned about the toxic wasteland my children and grandchildren will someday inherit, I would use disposable everything. But, since I love my kids, I end up washing endless dishes...what a waste of energy...*sigh*) At least it isn't storming right now.
We have had quite a few storms and down here that also means tornado warnings, which are always good for the heart rate, if you are paranoid, like me. I unplug the computer and TV when it is lightening and basically we sit around in the dark- listening to the wind howl and thunder boom. Good times- we are one case of rickets away from reliving the 1830's.
It would be nice if at times like that my kids would read a book and amuse themselves, but for what ever reason (switched at birth?) they do not enjoy reading the way I do. In fact, I can't get my oldest to read anything in book form. At this point, I am pathetically grateful that I can get her to skim the National Geographic magazine that we subscribe to and I only think she does that because the pictures are so nice.
No, my kids are very energetic and love to be outside, so if forced to stay in, they amuse themselves either running around playing a very dangerous (to me, the paranoid mom, anyway) version of hide and seek in the dark- shrieking and pounding through the house or by doing art projects.
I know you are thinking that the art sounds pretty nice, except that lately my two older ones have taken to drawing very unflattering portraits of everyone and my youngest is VERY sensitive. Whatever happened to stick people and rainbow pictures? Why must they attend to the fine details when it comes to drawing a sibling's flaws, but not when it comes to cleaning the bathroom?
More importantly, how am I supposed to concentrate on the bodice ripper I am reading, if they are running around and screaming every minute?