Sick as a Dog

The last big city market was brutal, and pretty much all day I felt run down and hot and miserable, but mind you, I didn't moan and whine like I usually do. I'm getting better. By the end of the market, I was wiped out, and we began the long process of breaking down and cleaning up, which can completely crush your spirit if you let it.

By the time we got back to our town, we had to pick up the kids at HH's house, and then get everyone ready for bed. I went to bed and slept terribly, tossing and turning, and yet I was so exhausted. In an amusing bit of cruel irony, I recall dreaming all night about frying dumplings. How's that for a "sisyphus-ian" sentence? The next morning, Thursday, I woke up feeling miserable, and spent the entire morning staring at the computer and getting nothing done. Bummer.

I had several appointments that day, too. JH was supposed to come over and we were going to install that door on the second floor, but I had to call him at the last minute and cancel. He was cool as always, but I feel bad that I'm wasting his time. We also had a playdate that evening with GK&T, but I had to cancel that, as well, because I felt like death warmed over.

I spent the rest of the day laying on the couch while the kids hovered around me and asked me when I was going to get up. It's a good thing they're cute. You really begin to realize that in the crazy world that we live in, you just can't afford to get sick and take time off. There are things that need to be done.

It's looking like we may not make it to the local market, either, but you can't serve food when you're sick as a dog. It makes me thing of that Aerosmith song, one of my favorites, "Sick as a dog... stick out your tongue."

Until the next time, thanks for reading, and thanks to Ruben Martinez for the pic.