So, you know how I got the flu and then got COVID and then the COVID kicked my ass?

Well, funny story.

Randy and Joey both got symptoms after I tested positive.

Randy had a runny nose and mild head cold symptoms for a few days. Joey was sick to his stomach with a bad headache, but his symptoms cleared up in a couple days as well.

So, last Thursday was the first day I felt good.

I mean, I was weak and shaky, but I definitely felt like I was on the other side of COVID. Which took over two weeks.

Anyway, I celebrated by putting together some IKEA shelves called Omar. Randy has been bingeing The Wire. Again. So, it was kind of fitting our shelves were called Omar.

I took the pantry apart and put it back together. My two Omar shelves were kicking ass in their new space.

All was right with the world, man. I mean, my back hurt pretty bad. I totally overdid it. But it was okay. I’d get the heating pad. No harm, no foul. Maybe. We’d see in the morning.

Then, the morning came.

Last Friday morning. The morning when we realized that Joey’s symptoms weren’t COVID symptoms. He had the stomach bug that had been going through the restaurant where he works.

I got out of bed and felt off.

I did a lot yesterday. Way too much. That’s all this is. Yep. I just need to slow down a bit. 

I booted up my work laptop at my dining room table.

In the time it took me to connect to our network and clock in for the day, I realized I was actually sick as fuck. For all that is fucking holy, it hit me like a brick.

I checked a few things at work, clocked out, and emailed my boss that I was done for the day.

I went back to the bedroom and laid down.

I think I was there under a minute before a lot of unpleasant things happened that involved frantic limping from the bedroom to the bathroom. Why limping? Haha, well, I think I have a stress fracture in my left foot. I’ve had them before. I know what they feel like. So, you know, who knows? Maybe, COVID made my bones brittle.

For 48 hours, I endured one of the worst headaches of my life. The headache was bad, but not worse than the extreme pain in my stomach. It was worse than the flu and worse than COVID. By quite a bit. Thank the stars it was 48 hours.

For 48 hours, I was too sick to watch TV. I was too sick to sleep. I laid in bed and stared at the wall. I didn’t bother crying. I’m not sure I could have. Anything liquid was long gone. My lips shriveled up and cracked. I constantly sipped water or soda.

My part of the world got hit with a fairly significant ice storm Friday. I had been about 12 hours into purgatory.

Our bedroom faces the road and is above the garage.

Friday evening, while I stared at the curtains and the wall, I kept hearing this grinding noise with bright light coming in at the edges of our black out curtains. Which aren’t the greatest black out curtains to be honest. 

At that point I was exhausted and there was no such thing as a comfortable position.

I was freezing, no matter many blankets. I kept seeing that light and hearing that noise. I got out of bed and looked. A truck had tried to turn around in our driveway and was stuck. His headlights were right in my face. Which really did wonders for my headache.

I have no idea how long that truck was out there. It feels like it was hours and hours and I knew Joey would be coming home from work soon. Where would he park? Hmmmm?

I thought about voicing my fears to Randy. My god, what will we do? But I realized that would change nothing and that it would also take way too much effort to talk that much.

Turns out, the truck got out before Joey got home. I don’t recall that happening. It must have been one of the times where I would sleep for 20 or 30 minutes.

Joey and Randy took such good care of me. Seriously, you guys, they did.

I mean, mostly.

Okay, I do not want to sound ungrateful, but on Saturday, after I had lived in the bowels of hell for over 24 hours, I decided what I needed was a popsicle.

I fucking needed a popsicle.

Joey went to a gas station and picked up what they had and brought them home. He brought home frozen fruit bars.

Frozen fucking fruit bars. Raspberry, lime or strawberry.

Are fruit bars popsicles? No. No they are not.

I mean, I was polite and all. I accepted a raspberry. I even ate half of it, even though every moment only reminded of how much it was not a popsicle.

I think one of the only times I veered from my path of bedroom to bathroom and back was to throw away my half eaten fruit bar. Fucking fruit bar.

Then they did pull through and brought home honest to god, no color that exists in fruit popsicles. And Randy brought me one.

An orange one.

I mean, if it had been lime, I would have considered that a hostile act. But orange? Orange is next worst.

Then he brought me a cherry one, so I felt that redeemed him as cherry is best.

Next two? Fucking orange. I am not even kidding you.

It is also possible, perhaps, that it turns out having been sick for a goddamn month and then topping it off with the worst headache in years might turn me a little bit into a contrary patient. I mean, it’s definitely possible.

I mean, the good thing is there can’t be too many orange popsicles even left at this point.

I did my 48 hours. Today is the first day after. I am tired. I’m not better, but I am way better. No headache. No other unpleasant horrors. I ate food. It was glorious.

I think we need a bag or limes or something. I’m not sure what’s left out there for me to get. Scurvy maybe?

Although, I do have the fruit bars. Lime ones. That should do.

Fucking fruit bars. 

I really am much better today. Much, much better. I couldn’t put together shelves or anything, but I am better. Things were looking up and then I noticed this odd spot on my arm.

It was like a brownish, flakey oval, little larger than a pencil eraser. It did not look good to me.

And it fucking hurt.

Jesus. The COVID didn’t just make my bones brittle. It made the skin cancer come out. It can’t be a good sign if it already hurts. 

I couldn’t come up with a single good outcome. I only had worst case scenarios.

Then I remembered something. Oh. Wait. Wait wait wait. Remember after you clocked out? And you bounced off the wall? 

Friday morning, after shutting down for the day, I stumbled when I left the room.

I hit the wall pretty hard you guys.

I have a scrape (it’s not a tumor) and a bruise. It’s just all the other stuff was so much worse, I pretty much forgot it happened before even making it to the bedroom.

I emailed my boss a little bit ago and told him I’m taking the next few days off. I need a couple days. Maybe more. I’m feeling a bit skittish about all the other germs. Because you know, if anyone around me has the black plague, then you know I’m gonna get it too.

Wish me hearts and flowers and baby angels riding on unicorns for the next few days. I have a lot of healing to do.

Image by Jeon Sang-O from Pixabay

HAHAHAHAFUCKINGHAHAHAHA

Yeah, that’s not what we’re doing.

But goddamn, we are talking a really good game right now.

Randy and I have decided to finally take care of issues we have with this house we bought. Nearly 4 years ago.

First, we replaced the water heater.

After finding roof damage, we just got a new roof which was covered under our homeowner’s insurance.

Next week, our sagging driveway gets propped up.

We want to update our kitchen and repaint the dining room. Also, optimize the pantry space. And kitchen.

via GIPHY

Our kitchen is dinky. Two people can work together in there. But not without some hurt feelings and general bickering. Seriously, how does he manage to step right in my way every fucking time?

Our changes won’t really make that better since I can’t make the room bigger. However, we can better utilize our space and make everything more accessible, which really, will eliminate at least 36% of our frustration.

36% was calculated by using the super scientific method of making up a percentage that has no meaning whatsoever. It also may be 37%.

Anyway, we’ve been having a lot of fun looking at shelving and mentally rearranging everything.

In my mind?

• I have repainted the kitchen cabinets and the entire dining room.
• We’ve shopped for dishes, curtains and oddly shaped light bulbs.
• We’ve shopped for rugs, back splashes, and bar stools.

Then, I had to bring us back to reality.

All these jobs can’t start without a little prep work.

By a little, I mean, we have a lot of prep work to do.

For instance, we can’t organize the pantry until we actually clean out the pantry.

I squared my shoulders, adjusted my pajama pants, and started pulling stuff out of the pantry.

Okay, stay with me, I’m going to veer off a little.

Around Thanksgiving, I did something to my baby toe on my right foot. No idea what. But it hurt like a motherfucker. I finally went to the doctor in December about my sad, swollen, purple toe. They sent me for an X-ray. Turns out it was not broken. They said to call if it didn’t get better.

Well, it has not gotten better and I just got around to making another appointment last week. I see the doctor on Tuesday. I have one pair of boots that I can wear that don’t hurt my toe. I’m glad it’s cold out.

So anyway, I started clearing out the pantry and I stepped on a shard of glass that punctured the left ball of my foot.

I had to take a break to try to get the bleeding to stop. Super happy it was my left foot because at least now both of my feet hurt. Once I got back to cleaning, I found that there was no more broken glass. I found the one piece in there. With my foot.

I guess sorting out the pantry isn’t a huge step in all the improvements we want to do. But it’s a start. We aren’t on a deadline.

We just have to keep moving forward. Hopefully with less bloodletting.

So, when I say we’re kicking ass, it’s possible that I’m the one getting my ass kicked.

Still taking a few names though.

The pantry looks amazing.

Edited to add: Today is Betty White’s 100th birthday!! If you are able, please consider making a small donation to an animal rescue in her honor. Or you could donate to the rescue where we got our kitties, Alfie and Gertie.