For the first time in years, I left work early yesterday because I felt like crap. Aches, chills, nausea, low-grade fever, you name it, I had it.
At one point, I think I was even hallucinating. OK – I’m exaggerating, but I don’t remember much from yesterday afternoon and evening other than making several round trips to the bathroom and sweating a lot. I felt much better when I woke up. Still some residual nausea, but at least the fever, aches and chills were gone.
I stayed as far away as I could from the girls and the husband; banishing the latter to a different room to sleep. My fingers are crossed that I quarantined myself enough – although if it was brewing inside of me prior to yesterday, they’re all screwed.
I don’t remember the last time I had a 24-hour bug like that. It ain’t fun and I’m not eager to reprise it. In the meantime, little Sophie missed not having me as a playmate. She’s good at entertaining herself for limited periods of time, but didn’t really understand why I wasn’t available to her. She was not happy.
Chloe, on the other hand, could care less. She did check in on me when she needed something. I don’t recall her even bothering to couch her requests with a “how are you feeling, mom?” Typical. Love her dearly, but that’s just not her style. I’d have to be on my deathbed in order for her to notice anything was amiss. She did, however, make sure to get a cupcake for me last night. That was thoughtful, even though I couldn’t eat it.
I’ve also fired my husband from the extremely important task of taking phone messages. Because he never passes them along. Or he passes them along hours later. Or with incorrect information. Chloe had a hair appointment this afternoon that the salon called to reschedule yesterday for an earlier time. He neglected to inform us and the salon called wondering where the hell we were. Needless to say, I told the salon that my home phone was now officially off-limits. They’ll need to call my cell from now on, since I am perfectly capable of giving myself my own messages.