It isn't the kind that makes you talk funny or slightly deaf. It's the kind with the sore throat and the fuzzy head that makes you crabby and nigh impossible to get along with.
While in this condition, Himself left for Pittsburgh for a one-day reunion with an old friend from work. I don't begrudge him the trip. It's not like it could have been put off--and the friend isn't ordinarily there. He's ordinarily Very Far Away.
But I am not in a generous mood. I am in a foul, viral mood and there is not enough tea and honey in the world to make it better. I ate an entire package of saltines just for the salt and now I feel sick, can't swallow, and am bloated up like a puffer fish. For the record, it's All His Fault. (And I am *s0* not like that! Except today. Today I am like that. Whatever it is, it's Chris's fault.)
I worked all day, but it's a good thing I wasn't called upon to be brilliant because I don't have two functioning brain cells to rub together. There is one small section there that has to be a little creative. I put that off in hopes that tomorrow I'll have three or more brain cells to apply to the task.
Otherwise it was one of those days where I felt like everytime I sat down and was finally making some progress I had to get back up again and go drive somewhere to get a kid or deliver a kid. They got badly baked pizza for dinner (I followed the directions, but the directions were wrong I guess--the pizza was over baked). They got a grouchy piano lesson (but offset by the addition of candy corn to the lesson) and I nearly nodded off during the reading lesson, but at least we got to the reading lesson today.
I am ready to nod off again but want to finish this page. So I'm off to do that and then off to early bed.
UPDATE: It's not longer Chris's fault. He just called and instead of staying overnight there he's going to drive the three hours home again to get here at 1am so he can take Max to school in the morning so I don't have to drag my sick throat and three kids out the door to get Max to school. Good Husband. Now if I could just undo that package of saltines . . .