Feverish random thoughts

It would be somewhat inaccurate to say that today doesn't suck. Angus went back to school, still hacking up a lung periodically, but declaring that he feels fine. Eve has been an unhappy, warm-ish, snotty little heap on the couch all day (except when I asked her if she wanted me to put in Planet 51 or Fantastic Mr. Fox for her, and she stuck her head up and declared "Avatar!") and my throat feels like someone has flaming-arrowed a proclamation of doom to it. On the upside, I did manage to narrowly avoid spraying a bunch of Fantastik with Bleach into my load of darks, after I grabbed it thinking it was Spray Shout.

You know those laundry labels that say 'remove promptly from dryer?' Don't they just make you laugh with quiet indulgent affection? Oh yes, you dear little sweater/skirt/delicate lacy slip, I leave everything else crumpled and forlorn in the dryer all night or all day or all the whenever-the-hell-I-feel-like-it because I tend to throw laundry in right before I go to bed and then not think of it again until everyone's out of underwear and the pile of dirty clothes in the hall starts to heave itself around in search of water and soap, but YOU I will remember to fetch freshly heated and wrinkle-free the minute, nay, the very SECOND that indescribably annoying buzzer blats. Trust me.

You know what I hate? People who 'work tirelessly' at things. Especially because they're mostly noble, philanthropic, admirable things, which is a metric f*ckton of annoying, isn't it? Nobody really 'works tirelessly' at serving people sullenly at a drive-thru, or developing an untoward fondness for prescription painkillers, or letting their laundry sit in the dryer for three days until it looks like this only less cute. No, they're working tirelessly at curing porphyria, or repairing homes for senile talk-show hosts, or draping the naked in fresh and unwrinkled clothing (yeah, I know, it's getting old). I only ever work tirefully. Just thinking of working at things makes me tired. Just thinking of those people working tirelessly makes me unspeakably tired.

Angus just gave Eve a hug and she turned her head so she wouldn't cough directly into his face. Isn't that sweet?

So the Tylenol kicked in a couple of hours ago and Eve is now singing and trying to break her record for continuous ball bounces without fumbling. My Tylenol has not yet kicked in, and I sort of hate Eve right now. My mother said I should still keep her home tomorrow. My mother has clearly forgotten that kids can be sporting all the symptoms of cholera one second and dancing on your head and juggling kiwi fruit the next.

Pam and I usually walk on Wednesday mornings. If I was a working tirelessly sort of person, I would drag my diseased, phlegmy, migrainey ass out of bed in the morning. But we've covered that already. We've started walking on this really nice trail, where we run into a lot of people walking dogs, many off-leash, which isn't technically allowed, but they've all been remarkably well behaved. Can't say the same for that woman who blatantly let her dog take an unscooped poop in blatant view of our approaching selves. So we fixed our implacable gazes on her, bore down on her like a couple of avenging angels and VERY sternly WISHED HER A GOOD MORNING in a slightly less friendly tone than we customarily employ. Why? Well, obviously because Pam and I are a couple of GUTLESS PUSSIES!

I'm finding myself a little creepy at the moment, so I'm going to pop a few more pills and put my plague-ridden self to bed. Working tirelessly in the pursuit of mediocrity. That's how I roll.