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.