I’m sick of sick people.
I see them when I look in the mirror. They are in my bed. They are whining, clingy, needy, lazy, pathetic, dejected, and smelly. And that’s just me.
Grizzly is far worse…….no, really. He missed all of last week except Monday (I mean, I did too unless you count cooking and waiting on people and cleaning.) He tried to go to work Friday but didn’t make it and came home. He was a positive invalid all weekend. He tried to go to work on Monday but came home again in dire straits. The stomach portion of this virus attacked him within an hour of reporting for work. He is better this afternoon and evening. And I think he plans on going to work tomorrow. Please, Lord, let him be WELL.
Surely it must be. I cannot live in this frat house a moment longer. I can barely write or educate my child. I can’t keep anything cleaned up or put away. Forget laundry. I’m wearing my underwear inside out. Shoot, I'm wearing his underwear inside out. I'm the lone cook and bottle washer. Bo is gone for all intents and purposes except on weekends, The Wild Man is only now making his full recovery, and I am possibly, this evening, finally feeling as though I might be able to stop the barking seal imitation. Though a lot of good it’s done me. No one has even thrown me a fish. That might be too much like cooking!
Do I sound testy to you?
I am desperate for cleanliness. I am insane with the sound of opening and closing drawers, refrigerator doors, pantries, cupboards, laptops, and vitamin bottles. EVERY DRAWER IN MY HOUSE SQUEAKS ON ITS RUNNERS and has for YEARS. (Oh my good glory. The junk drawer just opened and closed for the 780th time since I’ve been writing.) And no one gets anything out and puts it away. NO ONE.
(I’m running away to wherever this chick is. Scoot over, Betty, and pass the “Lucosade,” if that’s what we’re calling it. And by the way, how’d you get THIS gig? I need lessons.)
Perhaps I should mention that I’m also worried I might be a vampire.
No, I have no taste for blood. But I also have no reflection. I couldn’t have. I don’t see Grizzly hovering by my side of the bed asking about my health, offering water, feeling my head, imploring me to eat well, to rest. I’m positive that must be due to my invisibility. Nothing else would make the least sense. A lone flower would change my life. One cup of soup that I didn’t prepare myself might send me into paroxysms of rapture Scarlett O’Hara couldn’t have adequately dramatized.
Oh, yes. I know I’m having a pity party. It’s the only socializing I’m up to. But don’t worry. I’ll do all the work and clean up after myself. It’s what I do!
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