I'd tell you I've been busy, busy, busy but if I told you that I'd be lying. So instead I'll tell you the truth.
Absolutely nothing has been going on. At all.
Well, except for a few things. I ended up staying up late to watch the pilot of Under the Dome - and I have to say, for someone who was so ridiculously excited about the show, I was a bit disappointed. Maybe because I was too exhausted to appreciate it or maybe because I'd just finished re-reading the book and kept exclaiming over and over (much to Man-Child's chagrin) "THAT didn't happen!" or "THAT isn't right!" throughout the show.
The decision as to whether or not I'd stay up last night to see the next installment was taken squarely out of my hands though - as last Thursday my body decided that it had had enough of being "healthy" and decided to lay me out...cold.
At first I thought, "Ehhh, it's a cold - no biggie." I figured I'd just power through it and life would be fine. Apparently the body had other ideas. By Friday afternoon it was quite apparent that my body had decided enough was enough and it was going on strike. How I made it through that day I don't know. I came home took enough cold medicine to put down an elephant and went to bed.
On Saturday morning, after a long, semi-restful night I woke with determination - I had things to do! I'd FINALLY found a place that - cross your fingers - doesn't come with bedbugs and scurvy for our trip to the beach next week, so I needed to find *EEEK* a bathing suit and some other essentials.
Fueled with coffee and cold meds, I made my way out to the car - figuring a quick trip to Target and all would be taken care of - only to discover that I needed gas before I could go anywhere. So I pointed the car to the nearest gas station - pumped a tankful of gas and realized that I was utterly exhausted and couldn't go any further. I turned the car around and headed back to the house. Where I then fell back into bed and proceeded to cry every time I woke up because I was so achy and blech-feeling. I pretty much slept for most of Saturday - this from the woman who cannot cat-nap during the day, even to save her very soul. Needless to say between the unexpected sleeping and the crying the guys were getting worried.
On Sunday, I was feeling a little better and actually made it to Target - where I bought the bottom half of a suit (which is usually the hardest half, since my thighs and I have serious issues, but for some strange reason turned out to be the easiest part this time around) and went back home to rest.
Later in the day I made Man-Child venture out with me to a different Target to find the top (hey, I was on a mission - albeit a mission in spurts) half - which wasn't available in my size at the first Target.
Now, riddle me this - I found two tops. In one style I needed at medium, in the other an extra-large. How does that even begin to make sense?
At any rate, I found the top I wanted and went back home - to rest some more. Whatever this bug was, it was seriously kicking my butt.
And guess what I discovered? If you go to buy a bathing suit when you are sick and semi-feverish - you really don't give a damn what the suit looks like once you've cobbled it together; you are just glad it's done. Now, whether or not that feeling will change once I get to the beach and put the said suit on is a different story - but at this point I don't care - it will just have to work. And well, if we are being honest, who am I trying to impress anyway? That's right - no one. So it just doesn't matter.
At any rate, as of this posting I am still not completely well - BUT I am no longer crying whenever I wake up and discover that I'm still alive, so I'm counting that as "progress."
As for the next installment of Under the Dome that I missed (and, most likely any future installments), my dear friend, Cora, pointed me in the right direction so I could watch via the Internet. Guess what I'll be doing tonight? Just me, the Internet, some popcorn and NyQuil - who could ask for anything better?