Saturday, March 21, 2009

How 'bout them apples, Miss Lindsey?

So help me, I'm on Twitter. I still don't get it. But that doesn't stop me from updating the Internet with every detail of my life. Yet one more way to remove all personal boundaries between me and the rest of the world!

Does anyone know how I can put it off to the side instead of way at the bottom like that? I can do links and formatting in html, but that's about it. Believe it or not, I've taken three programming classes. I absorbed almost nothing. It's one of the areas of study where I'm almost completely brain dead.

I'm still recovering from The Cold of Death.

Three weeks ago, James came home from his business trip. Yay! No more single motherhood. Or, not yay. He slept for the next three days. Don't get me wrong, he needed it, but this lady was tiiiired.

Then The Child got sick for the first time since she was ever so tiny. And she Did Not Appreciate it. For a few days she needed pretty much constant hydration, which was good for my supply, not so good for my sanity.

The The Child started getting better, but I started getting sick. At first it wasn't so bad. And then I woke up one morning, and oooooh, was it bad. Only it wasn't so bad that I could justify lying in bed all day and letting other people wait on me. Nope. It was just bad enough for me to be miserable all the time. This is when the marathon walks started. Which may sound strange, until you consider my alternatives: Walk mindlessly for an hour and a half while The Child gazes around contentedly at you and the world and sometimes dozes. OR, sit on the living room floor while The Child screams at you because you are boring and cannot muster up the energy to actually play with her. So, 3-mile walks it was.

After two miserable days, I started feeling a little better, but The Child had a fever. Which meant crappy naps and waking up at 7:00 in the morning.

I am finally feeling better, but I sneeze every 4.2 minutes, and my right eye is constantly watering, and I am tiiiiiired.

And yet? I'm on the Internet, giving you people a blow-by-blow account of my mental and physical health for the last three weeks.

Who wants to hear about The Child's stooling patterns? Anyone? Bueller?

There there's this, which makes me very happy. I feel so vindicated. I've been telling people for years that my fidgeting and doodling and everything else keeps my mind anchored, but NO ONE BELIEVES ME. And so I attempt to sit still, and everything goes in one ear and out the other. I tell you, I am incapable of both sitting still and taking in anything delivered verbally. I have a couple elementary school teachers to whom I would love to send this article, along with a spelling list 47,000 words long that they'll have to copy five times over because that's what happens when you don't listen.

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