Crappy def: my day

I'm sick.

I have been for four weeks or so. Way sick immediately after my triathlon, but not too bad since then. As long as it was after 10am or before 10pm. Mostly sick enough to be annoying but not enough to keep me down. You been there?

It's lame.

I was ready to be done with the persistent cough. In the spirit of "I'm going to live my life anyways" I went hiking on Thursday, partied it up new years eve, had a lazy day Friday, and decided to go on a bike ride with my triathlon friend Julie Saturday.

Bad idea.

After 35 miles with yucky hills (YOU ARE THE DEVIL HAWES AND USERY!) in a group where Julie and I were the only ones who hadn't done an ironman, I didn't feel so hot. I wrote it off as excessive calorie burning and satanic mountain climbing and proceeded to be productive (sewed two skirts, finished all my mending, made two flower clips, and two headbands plus cleaned my craftroom and did all the laundry. There will be brag pictures, be assured). Went out to PF Chang's with the hubs and had an overall excellent day, as long as my butt bones didn't come in contact with anything harder than Charmin.

I wake up Sunday morning at an indiscriminate hour and I can't swallow. My primary threat response took over: sleep.

I wake up about 2pm and make the executive decision not to go to church (yes that's right, I have 2:30 church now). Can't swallow, can't breathe, can't move without a muscle yelling SORE. I can cough though. Really well. I'm happy to demonstrate. My lungs keep practicing, hoping they'll get their big break. I expect an agent to call any day.

I manage to make it four hours before going to sleep at 6pm. The truly awful part is that I have to set my alarm to wake up for Monday. It's the first day of the semester and I have a sketchy idea at best on what I'm teaching, let alone what I would have a sub do. But as I tell John, the up side is that I set it for 13 hours later :)

So I wake up this morning, miserable. I stumble through the thoroughly humidified haze and shower. I don my incredibly cute new black skirt, but it's still not enough to banish the loathing. I get in the car and turn the key.


GarummrummrummRUMmrummrummrumm.

Garummrummmrummrummm

You. have. got. to. be. kidding. me.

Call John. Try a few things to get the car to start. Fail.

Call my visiting teacher. Already at work. Call every stay at home mom in my phone. Realize I have no friends and vow to be better at answering my phone. Call brother in law. No answer.

Call sister. She happens to be on her way to work but happily offers to turn around and pick me up, even though she is going to be running late herself. Let's me borrow a car. She even lets me borrow her cute little Scion instead of making me drive the extendocabextendobed truck.

That's love people, that's love.

Drive to work and park seven minutes before the bell rings.

Realize that my id, stamp, and keys are not in my purse. They are in the bowl where they have rested peacefully the entire break.

Realize I didn't get copies made in December

Realize they turned the electricity off for a week of repairs and my leftover ice cream sandwiches are congealed all over the freezer.

Find out that Jimmy, Frankie, Bobby, Michael, Joe, AND Sam, the swirling blackholes of attention and immaturity are ALL in third hour. The third hour that has 30 kids when my colleagues WHO ARE TEACHING THE EXACT SAME CLASS have 18 a piece.

Alexander has some new competition for a children's book.

I'm taking tomorrow off just in case I get boils and all my family dies. I'm not cursing you God. Promise.