Today is the first day in about a week that I woke up and actually felt like a human being instead of some whining, disoriented puddle of goo trying to ooze myself out of bed to, like, live. While sick, I am a master at seeming mostly-lucid in the moment, but I can assure you, it’s all an act. In fact, if that mouse-thing hadn’t been caught on camera, I never would have believed it actually happened…
(I also recall a number of email and text conversations of the last week that I’m only 50% sure actually occurred in real life, so if you’re one of those people, uh… sorry.)
That skill, by the way, the one that allows me to sound totally with it when I’m actually not? That is a holdover from my teenage years that is 100% attributable to my father. It’s not what he was trying to impart upon me, mind you. He was trying to make sure my lazy ass was out of bed and doing something productive at some ungodly hour on Saturday mornings, and his method of accomplishing this was to stand at the bottom of the stairs and CALL MY NAME AS LOUD AS HE COULD. REPEATEDLY.
But here’s the thing. In my entire childhood I only ever remember that darling man actually walking up the stairs to the second floor, like, twice. Maybe twice. So I knew that all I had to do to secure a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep was to respond– in a convincingly awake and productive tone– from a dead sleep, with half my face smashed into a pillow. At 7 AM. On a Saturday. Then he would go about his business, I would go back to sleep, and no murders would occur.
I got real good at that, real fast. And I am still so good at this that I fool myself sometimes. In fact, it’s such a reflexive action that I’m not entirely sure my vocal cords aren’t just responding of their own volition half the time.
And since I write pretty much exactly like I talk… well, this is a very long way of saying that you can never trust that what you read here was written by someone who has even half of her wits about her.
But I’ve got all of you figured out too, you know. All I have to do is post a picture of fuzzy donkeys…
And you forgive all of my grammatical mistakes and overused punctuation and the fact that I’m probably not making any sense because LOOK AT THOSE FACES.
Yep. I got your number.
We topped out at 30-degrees this morning so the whole crew decided it was a nice enough day to enjoy breakfast outside. The snow is melting. The fever is gone. And holy shit, are we all glad that’s over.
Ms. Diva, you must be one of the most charming people to ever lived. Happy you’re feeling better. Looking forward to a new year of posts… and lucid is not a requirement. 🙂
Glad you over it. I was running a temperature for 6 weeks and boy that really set me back. Warm weather is key to health and getting enough sunshine is crucial.
Yay! Glad you’re feeling better.
And dude, texting was the worst thing that ever happened to waking up. My parents had a room downstairs and I had a loft bed on the second floor. My parents would TEXT ME instead of coming upstairs or yelling my name, so there I’d be in bed and my whole bed would start vibrating with a barrage of “EMMA. EMMA. EMMA. EMMA.” texts and then if I didn’t answer, they’d send my brother in to shake my feet.
I don’t handle being woken up well.
Yep. Donkey Faces FTW!!!! Glad you’re finally feeling better;)
So very glad that you are………FUZZY DONKEYS…..feeling better. 🙂 Seriously, the donkeys (& nuggets & cat) ARE cute, but I truly enjoy reading your posts.
Totally have me figured out. Fuzzy donkeys are all I need, and I’m convinced I have the same at home, but minus the donkey and more of the giant fuzzy dog characters. So cute that they’re still alive, despite all the chewing of the walls and furniture.
You’re delightful, sick or well. Glad you’re well, never feel bad about being authentic.
Glad you are doing better, and I’m pretty sure everyone is happy that the weather is getting better. Hopefully it keeps getting better, I don’t like cold.
So glad you are better my little girl!
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