Yesterday morning I sat down to tell you something important, a discovery I made about myself and my emotional health and it was a breakthrough! Until I, uh, made another discovery about myself. This one was not great.
It seems that during the night I had developed a rash. A rather unsightly, itchy rash all over my arms, chest and neck. I was not amused. I took some benadryl and called into work. I spent the day alternately sleeping, babbling incoherently at Fred, and scratching. By this point, no one is amused.
I managed to score an appointment this morning at urgent care, so after taking Fred and Emma to the airport, I learned that I am suffering from an allergic reaction of unknown origin and here, take this pill which will stop the itching but also make you both paranoid AND lethargic.
I am not taking that pill again.
So here I am, facing a week without a husband or a daughter, a week free to fill with frivolity and nonsense, trapped by a need to wear long-sleeve shirts and a thick coating of calamine lotion. It seems frivolity will have to take a backseat to sensibility, AGAIN. DAMN YOU, SENSIBILITY.