Is it just me, or does the house completely fall apart any time mom gets sick?
I got slammed by an ENT/upper respiratory thing at the end of the week. The kind where all you want to do is sleep but you can’t sleep because you feel so rotten.
Unfortunately, Friday is my day for keeping the house going. Simple things like sweeping, vacuuming, dusting, and PROCURING FOOD. None of that even thought of happening yesterday.
Not only was I a virus zombie, Middle Sister was stuck at her boyfriend’s house with what sounded for all the world like the actual flu. She was too sick to drive herself home and I was too sick to pick her up. Finally after his classes were over he brought her home in her car, which left him stuck here. Meanwhile The Husband is heading home for the weekend, with an ETA of 11:00 AT NIGHT, requiring either a ride home from his truck parking place or a vehicle left for him so he could get himself home. I’m telling you, this cross-country driving thing is starting to wear thin.
It all worked out in the end, after about 20 phone calls and 5 different strategies considered and discarded. Everyone’s where they should be, our cars are both in the driveway.
Of course, there was the little party first thing this morning…just when I was contemplating how much better I would have to feel in order to have the energy to just die. Daughter woke up and asked me to take her temperature. She looked so pitiful I gave her a hug. And she promptly fainted in my arms.
But back to the house falling apart. Maybe it’s just the virus talking, but I could swear the house has never been so disgustingly filthy. Egg yolk cemented to the stove top. Food slime stuck to the kitchen sink. Carpet decorated liberally with leaves and other unidentifiable detritus. Crumbs and stains on the tablecloth. Sweaty, tangled-up sheets on every bed. Piles of laundry taunting us at every turn. Green beans are the only fresh fruit or veg in the fridge – not exactly the first food you think of when trying to feed sick people.
I’m expecting the roof to start falling off and the toilets to explode at any moment.
Thankfully, The Husband is well and has donned his Superpapa cape. He hopped out of bed (in The Boy’s empty room so as to avoid my germy sheets) to rescue me from a passed-out daughter slumped in my arms. Ran her to the doctor for a burst of that anti-flu thing (which it turned out she didn’t need because it’s not actually flu). Is now scrambling eggs for our sick girl, and will drive me to the grocery store for a few provisions once my Sudafed and Mucinex kick in.
The Husband is famous for once saying, while in bed with a virus: “It’s curtains. Gather the children around so I can say goodbye.”
I imagine I’ll be echoing that sentiment before the day is over.