The Light At The End Of The Sick

Alllllrighty! I think I’m on the up side of sick and it feels GREAT! Whoooo! Friday I was the walking dead (and no update. The dead can’t type) which prompted me to bundle directly off to bed after work. Man, a work day can beat the snot out of a person. Literally!

I never did find a marketable use for snot, which is sad because I’d be a millionaire as of this morning. What I did find is that if you spend the whole day Saturday sleeping, even when you feel like you might be able to get up and boogie about, it bores the cold so badly that it will let go of your head. It’s true! I felt like I was an actual real living person by Saturday night AND I went to bed early so extra real living person mojo there. Sunday, I was a little more coughy and a tad more congested but I think that was my cold going “Hey, wait! You tricked me!!!” but those brief free moments Saturday evening have turned the tide! I feel stupendous!

Come to think on it, that’s really rather sad. I’m still coughing and my nose is still a bit runny so on any other ordinary (re: healthy) day I’d feel like I was getting sick. It’s amazing what perspective will do for you.

I did get to dinking around out of the house Saturday (between naps) and wound up at Michaels. Heh. Michaels has giant googlie eyes and now so do I. My crafts crap organization project is going along swimmingly and now all my spots in the upper deck of my tackle box organizer are filled with things and stuff. And eyes. I have a lot of eyes. I also bought a little something craftsy to do for a certain someones (who I do believe one of at least reads this blog) that has to be done by June. Argh! June is not enough time! FAH! You people need to give me at least five months leeway for craftsy crap because I’m NOT THAT FAST! All I’m saying is that I hope this certain someone’s wife is late. Very, very late.

Three and a half months. FAH!

On the other hand, it did give me an excuse to buy more craftsy crap. Mmmm, craftsy crap. I also got a pork roast but that was at Hiller’s and not part of anything that has to be finished by June.

Errr…wait a minute. I’m not sure pork keeps that long so I guess it does have to be finished by June so umm…right then. Moving on!

Sunday we went over to Mumses and Mr. Paul’s house for Dinner With The Foot Princess. Mumses had her second foot bunionized this past week so we all trooped over to pamper and cook for her. Let me say right now that my mumses is a PAIN IN THE ASS to cater to because she Will. Not. Stay. Put. Here she is all walking shoe and bandaged on both feet and she’s hobbling around the kitchen like a one woman tornado. Gah! She at least let us fix dinner (although she made the hors d’overs (or whatever) of salsa and chips) and some dessert but only because we had the food in our possession I think. That didn’t matter, she found other things to do while we were cooking, none of which were “Sit the hell down and be catered to”. Feh.

We had a lot of fun, which included squicking Sis’s husband out (SCORE!) and almost having the puppy bite my sis’s tongue off (to which my mumses said “Good girl, Lucy!” Heh, my mumses cracks me up!). Evidentially Lucy is not so fond of people sticking their tongue out at her, or zurberting her because she will get to nipping after a time. She also does that thing where she leaves her tongue sticking just a little bit out of her mouth when she is really tired, which is what prompted the whole affair. I suppose she has a right, considering we were making fun of her. Heh.

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I’m going to go enjoy being healthy(ier) and tomorrow I’ll upload the tons of pics I’ve been taking here and there. Whoot! Pictoblog Tuesday! Now with less snot and more pork!

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(Heh! You probably saw this Sunday, but if you are not a JSFR junky, I wanted to point out the artSAY thing going on what with the reflection and all. Snazzy no?)

And Lastly, Your moment of “I” Zen.
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Last year at the booniverse: POCKY! Mousse style.

Last last year at the booniverse: Part ducks. Phones, phones, phones and the screw driver lady story.

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