I’m totally crabby right now. Downright pissy and creepy and yucky.
I have a crap-cold like the rest of Dallas and the world, and it sucks.
I am not a pretty picture right now. Headache, stuffy, can’t breathe and completely out-of-it. I look like a bassett hound- mouth open, drooling and BIG, SAGGY eyes. I’m certainly NOT man’s best friend now, though. Sorry hubby. And, sorry kids.
The stuffy head leads to a lack of hearing. Just too stuffed up. Last night was a great example of THAT. I kept thinking my kids were talking to me. Nope, they weren’t. This is how it went:
My back is turned to the kitchen, my head is in the fridge staring at…who knows. I hear mumbling behind me. I say, “What?” Mumble, mumble in background, presumably an answer. “What did you say?” (Said louder this time) Mumble, mumble, “Mom, not….to…..stop!” I finally turn around. “What are you guys saying to me? Are you asking me something?” “Gaaaaad, Mom, we aren’t even talking to you!!!!’ Stop!!!” “Oh, I can’t hear much right now. Just letting you know, so if you need to talk to me, talk loudly.” Eye rolls back at me. (They’d probably rather punch me to get my attention.)
I almost fell over laughing at that point. I needed a good laugh.
Now, back to the bassett hound look. Besides breathing with an open mouth, I have been slathering my under-nose with Mentholatum and my chest with Vicks. I’ve been wearing work-out clothes that have been put back on my closet floor everyday for the past 3. (Think covered in lint and stretched out) Hair is in a big WAD on the top of my head so it doesn’t get coated in Vicks. Oh, and I have a zit on my chin the size of Vesuvias. I’m a true picture of beauty.
I had to go out in public yesterday. Twice. Looking like this. I just didn’t care at all.
My first outing was a trip to the grocery store for broth, and I almost ran smack-dab into the automatic doors. I then wandered around because I couldn’t remember WHY I was there. One of the worker dudes asked me how I was. He should have run away then…because I answered him with the TRUTH. Here’s how this conversation went between man and zombie:
“How are you today? Finding everything you need?” “Noooooooo….I can’t r e m e m b e r what I needed and my head is so stuffy and my face is itchy and….”. All that being said while I’m whining with a scraggly voice, collapsing like a little kid who needs to pee and rubbing my face. My words don’t scare him away. “Oh, man, that was me last week. Mine lasted a whole week. You need to rest.” “Aaaahooooooh, I can’t rest. Mom. Gotta cook and wash and…” I stopped and said, “Sorry, but all I want to do is whine.” He laughed and hustled away. He didn’t want to ask me ANYTHING else for fear of what would come out of me. Poor guy.
Outing number two was to a another grocery store for a strong something to clear my head and knock me out cold. I threw my coat over my flannel, Christmas pj top and work out pants, applied another thick coat of Mentholatum under my nose and headed out. Hunted. Conquered. Went to pay. “You look sooooo bad. What happened to you?” (Ah, there are some downsides to knowing all the checkers at your grocery store.) I was too tired to have a repeat performance of grocery store collapse number one, so I simply said, “I have a cold.” She was sweet, told me to put Vicks on my feet with socks and sleep. And take the Alka Seltzer Cold Nighttime that I was buying. The crabby Me wanted to say, “No shit, Sherlock. Take the medicine that I’m buying?” The nice Me said, “Thanks for the advice. Bye.”
That was the shortest grocery store checker-outer conversation I’ve ever had.
Well, it’s a new day. I slept the whole night and actually feel less yuck-o.
I wasn’t mean to my kids, and I could hear them mumble. I’m thinking the crabbiness is waning and I’m on the up-swing stage of my cold.
Today is going to be better. I’m going to shower, think happy thoughts, panic about being nowhere NEAR ready for Christmas and meet a dear friend for lunch. I will also put on make-up and bright lipstick. I’ll look way perkier just from that. It’ll be awesome.
Until I look in the mirror and realize I look like a bassett hound in drag. With lipstick. OMG.