Same Time Next Year

That stomach flu was NOT a pleasant experience. Plus, it was sneaky. I was sick Friday and Saturday, felt much better Sunday, buzzed around cleaning the house and cooking a real dinner for my family (which had been subsisting on pizza) and even ate said dinner. I felt fine! I was cured!

Until I woke up sick again at 5 AM Monday morning. You know how being ill can give you nightmares? I woke up nauseated and panicky, convinced that David was in dire straights at college. I spent all of Monday lying on the couch and frantically texting him and asking if everything was okay. I was convinced my motherly instincts had sensed a problem, 3 whole states away.

Luckily, I was wrong. Or, at least, David says I was wrong.

Anyway, here it is Wednesday, and my insides seem to be working normally again, and it is GORGEOUS outside, with the cherry blossoms and the magnolia blossoms and what all, and David continues to claim he is JUST FINE, ALREADY. My life would be perfect right now, actually, if it weren't for the fact that Boy Scout Mulch Weekend once again looms before us. That's right, for the third year in a row, Larry and I are performing the marriage-defying act of working together on Brian's Scout troop's main fundraiser of the year.

Our conjugal union is most emphatically not cut out for this sort of thing, people.

Next year? I will be able to enjoy scenes like this.

But this - this is the last year I have to endure such torture. THIS year, I am training someone to take my place, so NEXT year, I can leave town for a knitting retreat or whatever else I want to do during Mulch Weekend. NEXT year, I can enjoy the month of March again, with its daffodils and forsythia and warm-ish spring breezes. NEXT year, I will not have to spend the month of March walking around with a sense of impending doom hovering over me. Best of all, NEXT year, you won't have to hear me complain about all this yet again.

NEXT YEAR WILL BE WONDERFUL.