Therapeutic musings mixed with humorous ramblings and sometimes spiritual notations of life as I know it in written form. A diary of my heart inspired by life.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Hazmat Suit Required
I've battled a bad case of bronchitis for a week and finally decided I wasn't going to beat it on my own, so I drug myself out of bed and went to the Urgent Med clinic yesterday. They took x-rays, told me I had bronchitis offered me a shot along with antibiotics and steroids. I felt lousy enough I didn't make it to work until almost lunch today. My husband and teenager had taken my car to the City for a day of man shopping with my oldest son who had been given orders to "hip his Dad out" in the wardrobe department. I don't know what it is about men, and buying themselves new clothes. No one ever has to tell me it's time for a wardrobe update (insert eye roll here). Anyway, I got ready for work and headed out to the car with as much pep in my step as I could muster. My teenager was sweet enough to leave the keys to his car so I could get to work and when I opened the door to his car and climbed in everything inside me screamed "Go back to bed!" Seriously, my immune system isn't in top form right now, and I'm not so sure my tetanus shots are up to date and although I am on steroids and antibiotics, I'm very certain it would have been in my best interest to have been wearing a hazmat suit while in his car. As if having the hibbie-jibbies wasn't enough, his yellow "low on fuel" warning was doing a happy dance on the dash. I gave him a quick call and didn't feel much better when he assured me... "You should have enough to get you to work and back as long as you don't go any place else." Trust me, there is no place else I want to go in this car. In fact if I didn't feel so darn bad I would have been embarrassed to be driving it around with the shoe polished exclamations left by his girlfriend of "He's a Babe" and misc. teenage endearments. The funny thing about this is he is the most OCD person I know about his room and his stuff... Never a thing out of place in his room, never late for any work or anything else. Dependable beyond belief.... Except for his car. Apparently, it's the one place he feel comfortable letting his hair down. Oh well,if nasty car hygiene is the worst thing he's guilty of, then I've got it made in the shade. Well except for the fact that I'm certain I've breathed in deadly spores that will melt my lungs and make my hair fall out. If I hadn't worn heels today, I'd just walk home tonight, but then again if he's wrong about the gas gauge, I'll be doing that anyway.