I was all psyched about getting back to normal. And then the migraine hit. And the headache leading to full on sinus issues. Add in miserable days and sleepless nights and losing my voice…I mean, come on.
And then, as sista-friend so eloquently put it, we discovered a portal to the bowels of hell under our master bathroom. (Thanks for that laugh, girl, I desperately needed one.)
Proceed to ripping out tile and walls and sub flooring, finding more and more mold & mildew along the way, and you’d think we’d hit the end, right? Surely we were getting ready to turn a corner. Surely there weren’t any more big surprises in the works.
Oh, but you’d be wrong, because that’s when my face exploded.
Well, technically not my whole face, just my eye. (“Just” my eye.) Red and oozing (sorry, gross), swelling until I could only see out of the tiniest slit. Even if I’d felt like writing (I didn’t), I couldn’t see the freaking computer screen. Sidelined. Urgent care. Then eye doctor.
The good news is two days of antibiotics has already helped. Not in a “people don’t stare at me like I’m contagious” sort of way; it’s more of an “I don’t feel like digging my own grave” kind of thing. But I’ll take it.
Ah, the summer wind down.
The days when my kids are alternately bored out of their skulls, dreading the start of school, and feverishly pitching ideas for activities just in case they haven’t managed to cram enough fun into the 9½ weeks of summer gone by.
These are the days when I juggle last minute appointments and school prep, except this year my house decided to mutiny. So while other parents are shopping for binders and book covers, I’m listening to a demolition.
No dramatic flair – there is literally a man with a sledgehammer knocking out tiles, walls, and flooring in my bathroom. I never in my wildest dreams imagined I’d hear these sorts of crashing noises inside our home.
On the up side: We didn’t go crashing through the shower floor ourselves before the water damage was discovered, it didn’t happen during the madness of our summer rush, and the kids (HALLELUJAH) will be back at school in a couple of weeks.
Now, we’ll be talking major gratitude once I have a bathroom of my own again.
“Do you have any children?”
“No. My husband has cystic fibrosis so we weren’t able to have kids.”
“We tried to adopt in 2015 but they told us no.” [voice drops to a whisper] “Unless you’re single or gay you don’t get the kids today.”
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – what on earth?!
When you leave a room, do you turn the lights off behind you or keep the lights on throughout your house most of the time?
I intend to turn the lights off behind me, I really do. I even think I’ve done it most of the time, but the rate at which BrightSide walks around the house exclaiming, “Doesn’t anyone turn off the lights when they leave a room?!?” indicates otherwise. Then again, we have kids, so…
What do you feel is the most enjoyable way to spend $500?
I’d take a couple of girlfriends off for a weekend of pizza, kicking back, delicious drinks, and gabfest.
Complete this sentence: My favorite thing to do on my cell phone is…
Check my e-mail. Dorky, I know. I play solitaire on there but it doesn’t rise to the level of “love.”
What inspired you this past week? Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination.
Heather Heyer’s last Facebook post: “If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.
Cee’s Share Your World questions come out on Mondays. Check out the photography on her blog!
BrightSide and I met in Charlottesville.
We were both twenty and living in that University bubble. Life being what it is I bumped into BrightSide with some baggage, but by some miracle he liked me in all my nuttiness anyway.
When we go back to visit I can still feel the thrill of being young, free, and accountable only to ourselves.
Come on, you know you’ve wondered about some of these. I’m not losing sleep or anything, but I’ve run a few internal rants about some of these. Check out Nick’s commentary on grocery stores:
Paper towels that advertise you are buying “Like 8” rolls when you are only purchasing 6 thick rolls – It’s not “like 8” rolls. It’s 6 rolls! Recently, and I swear this is true, I bought a package of 6 paper towel rolls that are usually ”like 8,” but it had a large “BONUS ROLL” label on it because somehow it was “like 9”, when it was still only 6 rolls. I hate this new math. If I am going to pay for “Like 8” or “Like 9” paper towel rolls, I think I should be able to pay “Like full price.”
How are 6 paper towels like 9? Things that annoy me in grocery stores – nickclaussen.com