Texting Does Not Work
Hello again. Did you miss me?
Ivy and I are sick with some kind of evil germ or virus. Let's say germ, because it just sounds funnier. "Good evening, ladies and germs!" See? Funny. Also, it makes me think of that germ-looking thing on Sponge Bob. Also funny:
So, I know it is evil because it has hit us pretty hard. I am waiting for Phillip and Violet to fall prey to Evil Germ, it is inevitable. Ivy's breathing was not doing too well, and she was running a high fever. So I took her to the doctor (which took 2 hours, thanks a lot Foothill Pediatrics!), and by the time we made our way back home Evil Germ had taken hold of me and I started getting Evil Fever and Evil Chills.
Today was the worst by far, though, because my temp shot up and I had to get into bed and get into the fetal position. Eventually Ivy came looking for me and the sheer thought of having to get up to take care of someone else made me burst into tears. Ivy took the hint and left.
There was NO WAY I was getting out of bed. I was Evil Germ's captive, and I had that syndrome where you start to identify with your captors and try to protect them even though they are hurting you. I was incubating Evil Germ and his Evil Germy Minions, which were surely spreading throughout my poor system.
I didn't want to get out of bed even to get medicine. I weakly texted Phillip, "Need advil. And a tissue." No response. I texted again, "Just the thought of having to get out of bed is making me weep. In a dramatic after school special way, not in an ugly cry housewife kind of way." (It was totally an ugly cry but I didn't want to scare him off.)
Still no response. Where was he? When would it be my turn to be taken care of? I wanted my mommy. I couldn't make myself get up. Eventually Ivy came back in and I begged her to get daddy. He finally came in and brought me medicine. And the moral of the story is? Well, the moral of the story is that you can waste a good 5-7 minutes of your time reading the junk that I post on here. That is 5-7 minutes of your life you will never get back. But I appreciate you reading it anyway (and commenting, hint hint).
Oh, and also, the moral of the story is that you should not text your husband when you need help... you should just yell loudly, which would get a faster response. Also, modern medicine is awesome. The end.
Ivy and I are sick with some kind of evil germ or virus. Let's say germ, because it just sounds funnier. "Good evening, ladies and germs!" See? Funny. Also, it makes me think of that germ-looking thing on Sponge Bob. Also funny:
So, I know it is evil because it has hit us pretty hard. I am waiting for Phillip and Violet to fall prey to Evil Germ, it is inevitable. Ivy's breathing was not doing too well, and she was running a high fever. So I took her to the doctor (which took 2 hours, thanks a lot Foothill Pediatrics!), and by the time we made our way back home Evil Germ had taken hold of me and I started getting Evil Fever and Evil Chills.
Today was the worst by far, though, because my temp shot up and I had to get into bed and get into the fetal position. Eventually Ivy came looking for me and the sheer thought of having to get up to take care of someone else made me burst into tears. Ivy took the hint and left.
There was NO WAY I was getting out of bed. I was Evil Germ's captive, and I had that syndrome where you start to identify with your captors and try to protect them even though they are hurting you. I was incubating Evil Germ and his Evil Germy Minions, which were surely spreading throughout my poor system.
I didn't want to get out of bed even to get medicine. I weakly texted Phillip, "Need advil. And a tissue." No response. I texted again, "Just the thought of having to get out of bed is making me weep. In a dramatic after school special way, not in an ugly cry housewife kind of way." (It was totally an ugly cry but I didn't want to scare him off.)
Still no response. Where was he? When would it be my turn to be taken care of? I wanted my mommy. I couldn't make myself get up. Eventually Ivy came back in and I begged her to get daddy. He finally came in and brought me medicine. And the moral of the story is? Well, the moral of the story is that you can waste a good 5-7 minutes of your time reading the junk that I post on here. That is 5-7 minutes of your life you will never get back. But I appreciate you reading it anyway (and commenting, hint hint).
Oh, and also, the moral of the story is that you should not text your husband when you need help... you should just yell loudly, which would get a faster response. Also, modern medicine is awesome. The end.
i think my husband would probably smash his cell phone with a hammer rather than answer a text asking for help. get better soon.
ReplyDeleteOh, I can so relate to that feeling of NOT wanting to get up to take care of someone else. BOTH Kevin and I had that evil germ a few weeks ago, so there was no one I could text. It was horrible.
ReplyDeleteI hope you're feeling better really soon.
I am sorry you aren't feeling well!! I hope you all feel better soon. My hubs always leaves his phone in random places on silent so he wouldn't respond either.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Teri and NBM!!
ReplyDeleteEmily - what is up with our menfolk not having their cells on loud enough to hear?? what is the point of even having one if you aren't going to be available?? grr.
And I wasn't there to help! If I'd been there Evil Germ would have been neutralized FAAST!
ReplyDeleteAbout menflok not responding... well... most lack part of the communication gene, even from before cell phones. They can't help it, or they chose not to.