No Use for a Dead Moose

Well, he's not dead yet. But he looks to be pretty close to it.

A visit from his mother last night (who is a pediatric NP and, rather often, our source for house calls) and a flu virus test kit confirmed my worst suspicions--the Moose has flu B. I saw the little double pink lines appear and said "oh, look, honey, you're pregnant, too!" He didn't find it amusing.

At mine and his mother's insistance, he decided to suck it up and call in sick to work today. I'm afraid he's been running himself into the ground and making himself sicker, and 3 days of couch time will do him good. The downside to this is he's now germing up our house instead of his office.

So far, Bob and I remain unaffected. (Knock knock knock on wood.) I hope it stays that way. But damn, I'm tired. Run here, run there, run everywhere. And I didn't sleep well last night, in spite of the half-dead Moose being again quarantined to the sofa. I made the mistake of eating Doritos before bed last night, and they woke me up around midnight, threatening to resurface at any given moment. They did not, but it made for a very restless night.

The icing on the cake? It's fucking snowing. Again. I took the new car today, given half-dead Moose won't be going anywhere--and I was surprised to find it handles rather poorly on winter streets. Much worse than my Honda. I suppose it could be that my Honda is made of metal and the plastic Kia weighs about 10 pounds, but still. I didn't expect to slide all over the damn place.

Think I'll take a nap now before Bossman gets in...