The Cold War
Not quite a sleeping beauty...sleeping stinky, perhaps...sleepin grumpy, maybe. Not a sleeping beauty.
I haven't shaved in three days. I've been huddled under a blanket in my sick cave of a basement watching a marathon of "Long Way Round" with Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman. I've peeked out only to eat a little, and help with Zoey and Maggie as best as I can...baths, bedtime, sentry duty for Mag's naps...I've been half useless. I'm not destroyed sick, just running on empty, and since we leave to head back to Brooklyn on Friday, there's no way I want to drag my arse around New York City. This cold has to go. So I've been sleeping a lot. I've been wearing my best, most positive outlook, and praying to the ghost of A-Rod's career that I recover in time.
Summer colds suck.
I will feel better by tomorrow. I will be of some damn use around this house. I will be sure to thank June for being the absolute best version of Mom and wife that she can possibly be...which is the norm for her. I am a pile. She is a whirlwind of energy and patience. I am sucking. I don't like being the epicenter of domestic suckage. Now, enough of this nonsense...I'm going back to sleep.