sorry

I've been absent for a while, sorry about that. I never, ever get sick - hubby got swine flu while that was going around and I didn't even get the sniffles. I haven't been notably sick since sometime in high school.

Until this week.

I took my first sick day off of work last Friday after only making it in for a half-day on Thursday. I left early yesterday. Some crazy sinus infection that's now turned into a barking cough.

Bleck.

The lamest part is that I had all that free time and didn't get ANY sewing done. My brain's been foggy from not sleeping well. I did, however, watch two and a half seasons of Mad Men. Mmmm.

Anyway, hopefully your regularly scheduled programming will return shortly.

Relax

Time to relax. Birthday is over, Easter is over, and nothing to do until our anniversary in June. Part of me really wants to disappear for a while - read, hide from the world. Being social puts so much pressure on me. Lots of anxiety - I feel like I've never had a real friend, other than my husband - saying that makes me feel kind of pathetic. I judge myself enough already, I struggle with worrying about how much a "friend" will then judge me for themselves.

Hiding under a rock was much easier.

Tired. Also, rant.

I'm exhausted. I don't know why - probably seasonal allergies, thanks so much Chico. I'd take allergy meds...but I'm already falling asleep at my desk, and the non-drowsy ones are like, $92/dose, so sniffling it is.

Also...Saturday's my birthday. It's not a big/round/exciting number - 26 - but still. My birthday. I've had some shitty birthdays - like my 18th, right after which my favorite grandpa died. Last year's was great - had a big party, lots of friends and family, etc. This year I threw another party, but a week early, since Easter's the Sunday after my birthday...

So I figured, sure, I'll just hang out around the house with Jeff, make him do stuff for me, it'll be fun still, right?

Apparently Jeff has to go help find human remains on Saturday. My birthday.

Sure, it's his chosen career, and I guess I should get used to it, if this is what he wants to do. I can't really say no, can I? I don't get to give him permission.

The last time he got called on a recovery? Our first wedding anniversary.

Good timing, bodies. Go back underground.

(grumpypants)