This is a wretched week. Wretched, I tell you.
I have barely stitched the last three days. Instead, I have been at work. Or driving.
I worked late shift Monday night, so did not get home til 9:15. I was so worried I was coming down with something on Monday, because I was congested and headachey. But I drank a Coke, ate some Popeye's spicy chicken, and got better. Whoda thunk? SO seemed a little croupy when I got home, but, then again, we function in a semi-permanent croupy state in the spring. And he was down where it was really pollen-y, and, not matter he says, he has pollen allergies. He gets sick every time the pollen kicks up.
Yesterday we had an 8:30 meeting at work, so I left the house at 7. Right as I walked out, I heard SO start coughing. Not his croupy cough, his, "I'm going down hard," cough. I hoped I had misheard, but he texted me at work for Nyquil and that was the end of that.
I meant to stitch some at work, but stopped for lunch at Taco Bell, and sat in line because some dummy up ahead didn't figure out that they had to pull up to order. It took another person going up to tell him to get him to move, and he still had to wait, in case that guy was lying, I guess. Because people will get shady for 89 cent tacos. So it ended up that I had no time at lunch. Phooey.
I had to stop for SO on the way home and had to get the standard sick person/caretaker fare: orange juice, cold medicine, and a trashy magazine to read. Got home, gave SO his medicine, and then did some cleaning up. He asked me to stop by his parents' house on my way to work this morning to drop off a tool he had in his truck that his dad needs. They live not that far from work, but morning traffic makes "not far" a relative term. So I set the alarm for 5:30 and then woke myself up all night, just to make sure I hadn't overslept. I so am dragging today. I would love to go home and nap, but one of the beauties of working two jobs is that they keep me honest--I can't just call out.