Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Tuesday, November 18, 2003
And so then…
It was nice to ride home in quiet—I love our kids, but they do tend toward the ebullient side, and their usually constant presence makes sudden displays of randiness toward Miss Reba on my part very uncommon. And they also breed germs like nobody’s business. Which means that even when they aren’t around, they have a way of interfering with my more base impulses.
I could feel something wrong on the way home—a dull ache in the head, pain upon swallowing, more tired than usual. This better not be what I think it is.
Got home and in the bed and promptly fell asleep with my tongue hanging out and little Xs cartooned in over my eyes.. This is not what I had originally planned to do.
Slept in one uncomfortable position after another, then heard the clock go off. We had to get up to get Jonathan to the park to have his pictures made for soccer at 8:30, and then Cat had a game at 10. I felt like I was swimming in quicksand the entire time, and my head had begun closing up shop and shutting down the ventilation system. We got to Reba’s mom and dad’s house, loaded up the two younger ones and took off.
Pictures, then wait for game, try to drink a Coke through tiny, constricted throat. Eyes feel like someone is hitting them with mallets. Game comes and goes, Cat tries to play, but since they moved the practices to 4 flippin’ 30 in the afternoon, she doesn’t get to practice and it shows. They wind up 2-2, which is probably pretty good. Pack up, go pick up others from the grand’s, go home, Cat started throwing mad fit for some unknown reason, tell her to go take a nap, I then collapse on Rebecca’s bed.
Sometime in there, Reba went to the store with the older girls and with Boy. Cat woke up and I took her downstairs and let her watch movies while I collapsed again on the couch. I think I washed some clothes. I listened to the crappy Auburn game on one of the kids’ portable radios since Catherine had the magic picture box tied up. (By the way, David at Largehearted Boy wins the office pool with his remarkably prescient prediction of the outcome. He was kind enough to believe that we actually might score some points, so I thank him for his faith.) I could have gone back upstairs to watch it, but that would have required effort. Or gone into the kitchen and watched it on the little TV. But that would have required effort.
So I just dozed and hallucinated while Tiny Terror watched something. I think they were all G-rated. Or not. I didn’t really care.
Reba got home with the kids and bags of stuff and I stood around watching like it was some kind of bad movie, then went and laid myself back down on the couch, then went upstairs and went to bed.
Another night of semi-consciousness, and at some point Reba had to get up to tend to one of the kids, and then it was time to get up and go to church. I stayed home, but for some reason, I felt compelled to fix breakfast for them before they left. Did that, and went to bed. Slept until about 11, then had to get dressed.
::sigh:: We had to go visit Ashley’s other set of grandparents. Reba doesn’t like having to go all the way there by herself, and rather than upset anyone’s carefully made plans by going NEXT week, I agreed to ride along shotgun. I slept, and upon arriving tried to be as perky as possible and be nice, then climbed back in the passenger seat and dozed all the way back to church. I really, REALLY didn’t want to go, but the kids all had stuff they were doing, and again, I didn’t want Reba to have to make the trip in the dark, in the rain, by herself. Not that I would have been much help had anything untoward happened—I suppose she could have used me as a big club to threaten a carjacker, or used me to prop up the bumper in case of a flat tire. Sat in the nursery classroom because the door would lock and it has a rocking chair.
Up yesterday, managed to take kids to school, then back home, checked on the old blog (because not only do I have respiratory distress, I have obsessive-compulsive blogging disease), slept. Finally woke up feeling less like I had mold growing inside my head, moved around the house some in something other than a zombie-like dream state, and then stayed up until midnight working on another silly project for one of the kids.
AND HERE I AM AGAIN!
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