Sorry, it was hydrocodone in my cough syrup. Whatever. It was an opioid. It was magic. It gave me a weird rash.
Isn't that just awesome? Cough relentlessly for a week, nearly bruise a rib, wake up one morning feeling ready to be human, and oh, your face looks like the opener of a movie involving the CDC.
Okay, so it wasn't that bad, but I do look like I went back in time about fifteen years.
Christmas tree is up. It's the saddest Christmas tree in the land, but it's still Christmas! We discovered yesterday that putting 300 lights on a tiny tree makes it look less sad. Mostly because your corneas are seared, and you can longer see.
We put it up last night after the girls went to bed. When Grace got up this morning, she was so transfixed that she lay down on the floor in front of it and went back to sleep. I don't know how. It's like the surface of the sun.
Speaking of which, certain smallish ones have arisen from their naps. One is pressing her gigantic head into my collarbone and calling it "cuddling." It's dreadfully uncomfortable. I should go.