mumble.

Sorry for all the Blogus Interruptus.  I go through occasional periods of internet aversion where I’m just not feeling it.  Scott and Rosco have been sick and I’ve been quarantined (yeah, I know that’s backwards) because my healthiness is rather important.  I’ve been holed up in the master bedroom for a few days.  I’m all right with that.  Just wish there was a mini-fridge in here to save me trips to the kitchen.  Lots of hand sanitizing going on here.  I haven’t had flu shots this year (though I normally do) because I don’t have a primary care doctor.  In the past I’d get them through my job, but my current job doesn’t offer them.  (ba-dum dum.)  I don’t want to go to the county clinic because chances are I’d pick up something else while waiting in line (I used to do food stamps casework, remember?  I know how probable that would be.)  I don’t want to go to one of the drug store dealies, because, well, I don’t feel like it.  Rosco hasn’t had his because his three-year check-up hasn’t occurred—his doctor is unavailable until December.  (Too late, anyway.  Smeh.)  I see my lady doc next Monday so I’ll probably get my shots then…if I don’t come down with Rosco’s flu this week.

What are your Thanksgiving plans for this year?  If it weren’t for the sweet potato pie I bribed myself with this year, I would put my head under a blanket and hibernate for a couple of weeks.  Okay - correction.  I’d like to sleep through the new year.  Screw Black Friday shopping.  Scott can handle buying and decorating the Christmas tree, putting gifts under it, force-feeding the kid turkey, and pitching the dehydrated tree out to the roadside in January, and all that jazz.  I’ll just zone out for a little while.  (Nobody’d really miss me anyway.  Except maybe Rosco because he likes jumping one me.  I’m not all that entertaining when I’m too tired to be snarky—at these times I keep all my snark in my head, so unless you’re watching my eyebrows twitch you’d think I was an unresponsive idiot.)

There’s supposed to be some sort of gathering of kinfolk in Virginia that I’d kind of like to be a fly on the wall at for maybe three seconds, but I’ll just have to rely on my sister’s play-by-play recounting.  I’ll just say that it will involve more drama and inanity than what goes on in week’s worth of All My Children episodes.  At this point in my life I’m allergic to drama.  (With allergic reactions typically involving me not answering my phone for extended periods of time.)

Posted by Tiffany on 11/23 at 06:28 PM
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