Sick as a dog

I didn’t go to work today. Instead I got diagnosed with Strep Throat, and spent the day popping antibiotics and ibuprofen while cold sweating on the couch.

LB’s cough is still pretty rank, and last week, yours truly got suckered into entering her in a photo contest. Yes, we have an appointment with a real photographer tomorrow and I am NOT missing it because I already paid my measly 10 dollar entry fee. So Strep-Throat-Single-Mama will be dragging Croupy-Cough-Runny-Nose-Toddler to what should be a quite an fun interesting time.

At this point in my life, I can only resort to maniacal laughter.

Roofie called to say they had a death in the family last night, so they couldn’t pick up LB from daycare. Last week, I would have been sad and offered my condolences. This week, I’ve become too jaded to even be shocked. Perhaps news of a multiple pregnancy or a mission to Mars is next on their agenda.

Another random thing: I got a call from my egg donation agency, informing me that a third couple is interested in my DNA. Apparently, the doctor who did the retrieval this last time personally recommended me to another couple in his office.

As flattering and exciting as that may be, I feel a little taut right now. Like I’m ready to be shot into the outer stratosphere. Like my internal organs and emotional sanity could be shredded in a second. I really just need a moment to process everything, but my throat feels like its burning a hole in my neck, and I need to get to sleep.

A sick day really isn’t a sick day when you’re living your own Oxygen Reality Show. Did I just say that? Gag.

Nite all.