I dreamed Alan Alda got mad at me last night. He was at a party in my house and he kept spilling orange juice on the hardwood floors. When I asked him to please move the orange juice pitcher into the kitchen, he became quite irate. He could not believe I was being such a fusspot about the OJ, and I ended up feeling guilty because, let's face it, Alan Alda seems like a pretty nice guy; if he is mad at me, it must be my fault.
If that all is supposed to mean something, I have no idea what it is.
Maybe that's just what happens when you go to sleep drugged up on Tylenol and Sudafed. Or perhaps I was delirious with fever. All I know is I feel like crap, and the zillion and one things I normally get done on Saturdays are not getting done, which means the coming week is going to be hell. And for some reason, Susie has chosen today of all days to whine a lot in my vicinity. It hurts to hear it. Everything hurts, actually. The mattress hurts. I'm most comfortable curled up into a ball in the corner of the couch, a fact which worries Larry a bit. At one point he said, hopefully, "I think I had this already, a few months ago." Talk about grasping at straws - I've had this already, too - about 20 times over as many years.
But this illness is not the worst we've had, by far, so long as I don't try to swallow. You do realize, don't you, that thinking to yourself, "Don't swallow" practically guarantees that you'll have to do just that? Ow.
It doesn't help that I got that shot yesterday. It turns out it wasn't just for tetanus, but also for diphtheria and pertussis. So now my inner hypochondriac is convinced that this is no ordinary sore throat. It is all I can do not to Google "diphtheria - symptoms" and scare the bejesus out of myself. As it is, I figure I'm going to choke to death any minute.
Can you imagine, Larry thinks I am too dramatic when I'm sick? Why would he say a thing like that? Maybe he's just disappointed. After all, he probably didn't spend the workweek looking forward to a Saturday where he had to watch the kids all day. It could be that he even thought he'd get a few hours to himself over the weekend. As I've said before, irrational optimism does seem to be a trademark of parents of large families. Sort of a protective shield, as it were, from the desperate reality of our situation....
Time to go to bed and try to rest up for tomorrow. Because I don't think I am going to be allowed to be sick two days in a row. It's not in my contract.