After a very incoherent argument with Brett last night, where he asked who was going to pay the doctor bill, I dressed him and let his dad take him to the ER for fluids and nausea meds. (He is Covid negative, for those who ask.)
He decided to try a bath and when sick, he already struggles with passing out. So, you guessed it - he passed out while getting sick and managed to turn our heavy duty glass garbage can upside down, shatter it, and get the bathroom floor covered in nasty stuff. (He’s probably going to be a little less than thrilled when he reads this.)
What happens when a germaphobe meets neat freak has her house full of people ALL get sick? Not good things, friends.
Not. Good. Things.
I wish so desperately this was a dream.
I only know how to function in one mode, and that’s full blast. I’ve boiled my hands and feet, mopped the entire house, and Alvi is currently having a fit that seems to be more unending than normal. I need to take a deep breath, but it desperately feels like there’s an elephant on my chest.
This is making getting over this sickness so stinking difficult. My dishes needed done, so I sat on a stool at the sink with Alvi in my lap and washed the dishes. Laundry needed washed, because, well, we’re sick and germy and we ran out of towels. The toys? Okay, the toys are fine for now.
I would give anything to be able to flip my switch and rest. I try, really, I do. I try so hard, and it just doesn’t work. If you have any magic tricks, I’m happy to hear them.
Brett got home around midnight last night and was able to walk in the house by himself. Fluids and IV nausea meds did wonders for him. He’s still down and out, but I’m happy with how much better he looks.
It’s definitely too late in the day for a nap, but I so wish I had just forced myself to take one. I haven’t had coffee or wine for days, put make up on, and I’ve brushed my hair sparingly regardless of showering. I’m rambling now, so this is the end. Happy uh.. Wednesday. It’s Wednesday.