It is funny how it is the little details you start skipping when you get sick. No eyeliner, maybe a ponytail instead of straightening your hair--then you feel worse so you stop wearing heels and maybe you don't moisturize for a week. You don't do the dishes and you don't make the bed. Next thing you know it is working on two weeks and your husband is humping your leg and whining BUT BABY.
And when you are napping on the toilet at work (what? don't you do that) you notice that it has been QUITE a while since you did any landscaping of the bikini line. But I suppose the bikini line is a signal that business is as usual and given the fact that I barfed up a lung today just trying to make it to noon business is not usual.
I did shave a bit though, because when your bikini line hits mid thigh you have let it go too long.
I was doing so well and maybe I got cocky. I still cough like I am in the late stages of emphysema but I felt pretty good. We even went to our class last night. I mean I almost passed out have way through but Christ, I hadn't been up past seven in a week. But today was bad. Bad in a way that I am just going to pretend didn't even happen. Instead, I am partying because Big Baby won! And I cried. And baseball starts in two weeks. And Peter Gammons made me cry about that. And because I truly LOVE my electric water kettle. But not enough to cry.
I didn't say it was a wild party. Starting slow.