Seriously, I am ready to have a life again outside of a house that looks like it was hit by a nuclear snow bomb. And, really, I would love there to be an actual trash pickup soon. I have major plans for a local farm, and my favorite playground/library combination… cool breezes, green leaves, sunshine… paradise. I’d be happy at this point to just be able to crack open my window and air out this joint. But, instead, we have more snow coming today. I. AM. SO. OVER. SNOW.

I spent the remainder of the “snow week” indoors because by the time things were ok to drive on, Sunshine had a fever and threw up all over us in bed. As soon as this whole winter weather thing goes away, I am so reclaiming my own space. There’s something about waking up and realizing that one didn’t clean all of the vomit from the bed that really makes one realize the whole 4 year olds/co-sleeping/attachment parenting is just a twisted marketing ploy by very tiny executives.

After I woke up yesterday, I had that icky throat feeling that comes before a cold. You know, one with a lot of snot that makes a preschooler vomit on you, plus a fever. That kind of cold. I also had a major school deadline, and tried my hardest to make it seem like the last two weeks did not suck my very will to live, to think clearly and to critically evaluate some amazing books. At this point, I’m just hoping for a “valiant effort,” like my music professor used to say when I screwed up a recital, but wasn’t absolutely horrible. So, I turned in that paper, 10,000 book annotations and made the decision to take my kids out before I fell over dead from snotplague.

We shopped. I even went to Whole Foods, even though our WF is in the absolute worst location on the planet and I imagined it would only have worse parking due to the car-size piles of snow that have invaded half of the parking spaces in every lot around. There was a blinding desperation I felt when I realized there was no tea tree oil in my house. None. Few people know how much I rely on that shit… its my windex. Not literally, but maybe I will try to clean windows with it at some point. Since the herb store in Leesburg was closed, I drove east to Whole Foods, keeper of TTO and Oregon Crap Grape Root (for my impending plague).  Then we met The Husband for dinner, during which I drank a margarita the size of my head. We came home, and I declared that while I hoped he was not in too much pain (chronic pain sucks, but that’s another blog), if I didn’t get a chance to lay down for an hour and sleep, I was going to die.

I don’t nap  unless something is wrong, but I passed out for 30 minutes and I have no idea if aliens probed me during that time or perhaps all the snow melted and then fell again. In other words, I’m sick. I feel like shiz. The Husband is bringing me a neti pot (“its plastic, is that ok?”) and I’m just all, “BRING ME A DAMN NETI POT” because… damn. I don’t have time to be sick. I’ve always been a little scared of the neti pot, so this ought to be fun.

But, in the blur of the past two weeks, a movie scene has been running through my head. You know that scene in “Runaway Bride” where Richard Gere is telling Julia Roberts about how she doesn’t even know what eggs she likes because she’s just been trying to hard to be a certain person to whomever she’s enagaged to? Its pretty interesting, especially if you know someone like that, because you find yourself  mentally screaming, “why can’t you just be yourself?” at this person, or maybe telling him or her that you support them, no matter what, as you encourage them to find out who they really are, without parental or other influence in their lives. Or, maybe, you just want to shove some eggs in their face. People are much more interesting when they’re not afraid to be themselves. That’s all.

Anyhoo, that’s all I’ve got today, because, I’m sick and stuff. I leave you with my SOTW – old school boys with guitars. Drool.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JGT3PiJE9-4