One of those days

A photo can't quite capture it properly. But it was one of those days. One of those 'no matter how hard you try, you still self-destruct' days.

I had minor mouth surgery last Tuesday. I had woken up not feeling quite well, noticing the lymph node on the left side of my neck to be swollen and my stomach was upset. To be honest, I haven't been well since Jomo's death. Anyway, the surgery was slightly better than having a cavity filled, if only because there was no sound of a drill to dry and drone out. Still not fun, but "better than getting a cavity" filled has to count for something, right? Plus, I since I was having a graft done, the doc used cadaver jokes. FRANKENSTEIN jokes will forever be funny. A mouth full of ... well, whatever they put on top of the graft and I was still making Dr. Frankenstein cracks to the doc!

It's gone downhill from there.

Within a day or so I lost my voice. Normally, people who have to live with me would count my silence as a blessing, but Justin knows better. Tuesday evening when I didn't think I could talk and remarked how happy he would be about that, he noted that it would STILL fail to shut me up. And he was right. Mouth surgery .. still talking. Lost my voice .. still talking.

I know, I know .. but it's Saturday now. Almost Sunday. Why the hell am I talking about earlier this week & complaining about one of those days?? It's called setting the mood .. so go away if you don't like it.
I didn't mean that. Just shut yer trap and read, ok?

All week I've been a little down. Lack of voice, neck hurting from swollen lymph node, gnarly hacking cough. Oh yea .. I'm bringing sexy back muthafucka!!

Southwest VA has also been hotter than usual. And the hole in the ceiling of our kitchen is keeping the kitchen about 20 degrees hotter by mid-day, than the rest of the house. Today was no exception.

I decided to try and doll it up (a sure sign of doom I'm learning) today. My favorite long skirt, a cute green tee. Left my hair down for a while because it was looking cute. Sacrificing comfort for looking cute is a sure sign of femininity, right??? (Another sure sign of impending doom when I'm trying that avenue).

We ran by the Co-op, I didn't over spend. So far so good, and I'm still looking relatively cute. Or at least as cute as I can tell from the pollen-covered reflection of my car window.
Off to a friend's Plant Sale/Yard Sale. It was insanely cool and hip, just like she is. I'm envious. I spent more money than I ever had at a yard sale, but walked away with a good amount of goodies.
Then to Wine Gourmet so Justin could spend the gift card he got for his birthday. Got a call while I was there from Mom. My 91 year old grandfather had been in the hospital and was trying to reach me & her. Hung up near tears, wanting to run. Got snappy with Justin for taking to long to browse over beers when I thought Dandaddy needed me. Got snappy with the kids for being kids around LOTS of glass bottles. Wanted to leave NOW. --- Turns out one of Dandaddy's friends had to go to the ER. Dandaddy followed him in the guy's car & needed a ride home, hence all the phone calls. Here's his idea of a message (to my mom): Marje, I'm in the hospital with Harry. I'll try to call Carrie. *CLICK* --- Thanks Dandaddy for the heart-attack. Glad you're ok. Gonna shoot you as soon as I recover from this nervous breakdown.

We get home, I try laying down, feeling awful on many different levels. All ideas of cuteness are lost and I am not feeling so cute anymore. Quite the opposite.
Kids have haircuts this afternoon. Whole family arrives for it -- it's a shocking event when my kids get haircuts. Grandma and Grandpa take the kids out for icees (or something like that) after the photos and Justin & I run by Lowe's for a looksy for laundry room storage.
Get home, still just wanting to lay down.

Mom & Barry arrive. I get up and show her all the work that's been going on. We're looking at the "new" laundry room and I manage to run my arm into the handle of the ice maker in the back hallway. Lots of cussing. I tell Mom what a bad day I'm having, how I just don't feel good. She reaches her arm out to hug me and says "I know, I can tell you're feeling ugly." -- UGLY!! She immediately retracted it. She meant to say bad. I'm laughing -- there is just nothing to make a gal feel better like saying THAT. ----- PERFECT.

They leave, I go back to bed. Justin feeds the kids, I get up before they go to bed. He gets drive-thru for us. I feel like crud, but eat it anyway. I end up accidentally biting the hell out of my tongue .. it's bleeding. Go figure. My fish sandwich oozes a big glob of tartar sauce onto my skirt. Oh well ... any ideas of cuteness have long since vanished.

Now I'm drinking. And the stupid rum has turned to slush. At least I didn't spill it all over myself. It DID drip condensation all over me. Need to get a proper Tervis Tumbler for Summer. But I didn't spill it on me. Perhaps there is SOME hope.