#SickDay

Warning, blogopeeps, when I’m sick I speak (and write, apparently) in random streams of consciousness. You have been warned.

My son woke up the other day with the usual stuffy head, sniffles, cough, and claimed it was allergies. I’m here to tell you it was NOT just allergies. He now seems to feel just dandy, but I will be sick for a month and a half. Why do moms get punished so?

Anyhoo (yes, I’m someone who says anyhoo. Deal with it.), I decided in my weakened state that I’m going to take a sick day. What does this mean when you’re unemployed  a professional writer? I’ll tell you what it means.

It means that after you drop your kids off at school, you go to Wal-mart in search of cough drops. After walking aimlessly around Wal-mart and forgetting my purpose at least three times (because let’s face it, I’ve already taken enough cold medicine to make my lips numb – seriously), I came home and looked in the mirror to see that I’ve had a piece of popcorn stuck in my hair probably all morning.

Yes, I traipsed all around Wal-mart with popcorn in my hair. I didn’t even have popcorn today. Seriously, people, if you see someone with popcorn in their hair, say something. Even if it’s a stranger. At least that explains why the check-out lady kept looking at the top of my head. And here, I thought she just had a lazy eye.

Oh well, I’m home, with cough drops. And tea, I might add. I’m tempted to write just to see exactly what comes out of my head right now. But after attempting to edit someone’s manuscript already, I stopped after referring to the hero as an “asshole of epic proportions.” Twice.

It’s probably best to let the sick day commence. Maybe I’ll finally binge Orange is the New Black. A few people may have told me it was good.

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