Breathing Room
I did get to talk to Bob last night. Wherever they may have been, they appear to be back. So there's that.
Then Gretchen came over last night, and in exchange for talking me out of going to the gym and forcing me to eat Maggie Moo's, she re-covered the cushions on my $50 glider in Moosebaby's room. Using an old duvet cover of Bob's. Not only did she manage to avoid using any of the fabric Bob had sullied with a red marker, she also made them reversible, and the plaid sides match up perfectly. The lady doesn't half-ass, yo. Pictures to come, I swear.
The downside of the evening was, strangely enough, the Maggie Moo's. It was heavenly--two scoops of sweet cream with fresh strawberries mixed in--but about half an hour after I ate it, my head started to pound. And it wouldn't stop. Lying down and swallowing three Tylenol didn't help. Trying to go to bed didn't help. Which confirms my suspicion that yesterday's test isn't going to pan out in my favor, and I'm going to be lumped into the same club as my mom, Wilford Brimley, and Brett Michaels. Joy.
It was a pretty sleepless night. Once I found a comfortable semi-upright position on the sofa, I fell asleep just long enough for said position to wreak havoc on my upper back, and ended up only getting truly comfortable in my own bed at 6:30 this morning when Ben got up. So I slept in til almost 9. Now I'm here, Bosshole is gone, daddy, gone, and I suppose I should figure out what the hell I'm doing and get to it.
Then Gretchen came over last night, and in exchange for talking me out of going to the gym and forcing me to eat Maggie Moo's, she re-covered the cushions on my $50 glider in Moosebaby's room. Using an old duvet cover of Bob's. Not only did she manage to avoid using any of the fabric Bob had sullied with a red marker, she also made them reversible, and the plaid sides match up perfectly. The lady doesn't half-ass, yo. Pictures to come, I swear.
The downside of the evening was, strangely enough, the Maggie Moo's. It was heavenly--two scoops of sweet cream with fresh strawberries mixed in--but about half an hour after I ate it, my head started to pound. And it wouldn't stop. Lying down and swallowing three Tylenol didn't help. Trying to go to bed didn't help. Which confirms my suspicion that yesterday's test isn't going to pan out in my favor, and I'm going to be lumped into the same club as my mom, Wilford Brimley, and Brett Michaels. Joy.
It was a pretty sleepless night. Once I found a comfortable semi-upright position on the sofa, I fell asleep just long enough for said position to wreak havoc on my upper back, and ended up only getting truly comfortable in my own bed at 6:30 this morning when Ben got up. So I slept in til almost 9. Now I'm here, Bosshole is gone, daddy, gone, and I suppose I should figure out what the hell I'm doing and get to it.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:20 AM
2 Comments:
It was fun! And yes, the ice cream was wonderful.
Glad you guys had fun! And you got your glider recovered, that's a win-win to me!
Suckage on the sleeping, though. I slept like ass myself last night, maybe there was bad sleeping mojo in the air.
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