I think I can finally say that I am well again. That cold had me down for the count. I do not like being down for the count. I have shit to do. Totally annoying.
But it appears that I have emerged out the other side. There is one small lingering issue in that any time I laugh, the laugh descends into a coughing fit that sounds like I have glue in my lungs but other than that, I'm just peachy. The very model of good health.
When the lady of the house (read: the head, the boss, the shiz) is struck down, ultimately, the system is struck down. Little things go by the wayside. Like cleaning and grocery shopping and any semblance of fucking order at all.
So when, in the midst of my illness, having gone to the cupboard to fetch foodstuffs and coming up empty-handed, I made my way to a fast food drive-thru and felt that I was almost on hugging terms with the person who served me, yes, I knew that things had gotten out of hand.
Here is the ensuing conversation;
Drive-Thru Girl: How are you today?
Me: Oh, just feeling embarrassed that I feel like I've seen you A LOT lately. But I comfort myself that you must see other people more.
Drive-Thru girls pauses, considering.
Drive-Thru Girl: I do see people more regularly than you. They're normally here for coffee though. Take that however you want.
Me: Oh, I'll take that to mean I have to go and kill myself. Thank you!
Drive-Thru Bitch-Faced Bitch: Hahaha! That'll be eleven dollars please.
So, it was depressing. And I haven't been to the gym in almost three weeks.
But in my defense, my arse still fits in-between the handles on LD's toddler toilet seat. I know this because quite frequently I am too lazy to remove it.
On a sad note, I discovered that my abs are totally separated which is totally normal following a pregnancy but my youngest child is fifteen months old.
"But," I looked up at my osteopath hopefully as she inspected the chasm in my belly, "they could still knit back together right?"
"Ummm, no," my osteopath said, gently, which was nice of her.
Unlike stupid drive-thru bitch face.
And I don't even want to talk about my boobs. I mean, they just are not a matching pair right now. But not in a subtle way. No, in a "Wow, that chick has a massive set…no..no, not a set. Just one. Just one massive POWER BOOB".
I need to wean this child.
And I need to get back to the gym.
And for the love of all things Size 8, I need to stop eating drive-thru hamburgers.