This weekend was long. Three days long. Two colds long. Long.
I came into it with a bit of a cold myself. Or not. I was either fighting something off or recovering from it. Either way, I needed to go to bed at 5 every night and not wake up until 11. Unfortunately, I was going to bed at 11 every night and waking up at 5 every morning.
Then Jewel got my cold. Or picked up one of her own. Only she knows, and she’s not talking. Well, she is talking quite a bit these days, but mostly still to say only, “dis” and “dat” and “dese” and “dose.” We may be raising a wise guy.
On Saturday she was OK. On Sunday things went slightly downhill. Yesterday the lug nuts came loose so that last night the wheels could come off and a crash and burn could ensue. She ended up sleeping–and I use that term loosely–in our bed for most of the night. Of course, by the time I got there, there was only the least of the night left, which means that I pretty much took a cat nap last night.
And so I continue to either fight off or recover from whatever this virus is that’s plaguing our household. I’m not really sick, I just don’t feel great. Then again, that could be the exhaustion talking.
And at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if my fatigue started talking to me. Or if I started talking back.