Crawling Out of the Cave Called Flu
I’m coming out of my antihistamine-induced haze just long enough to say "hello," and that we are all alive. . . o.k. barely before crawling back into my bed. Ahh, my sweet, sweet bed. . . where was I? Oh yes. For the first time in three days, I finally managed to get out of said bed and get a shower today. Actual blow-drying of the hair did not happen though. That was just asking too much, holding up a hair dryer and all. When you’ve had pretty much nothing to eat in three days with the exception of pears, applesauce, and Nyquil, there’s not much energy to be had. I don’t know what exactly Big I brought home from school, but it is one nasty germ.
Big I was home from school for the third day in a row today. She saw the doctor and was diagnosed with the flu and two raging ear infections. The diagnosis for me is a flu that turned into some serious bronchitis and after getting some heavy duty antibiotics last night (called in because I simply could not leave this house), I woke up this morning feeling slightly more human. Slightly, although still not at all well, certainly not well enough to get out of my pajamas and definitely not well enough to talk or breathe for more than two minutes without erupting in a coughing attack that makes me feel like I’ll either a.) barf, b.) pass out from lack of oxygen, or c.) all of the above.
From the violent cough I’ve been dealing with on a near constant basis, I feel like someone has been beating me with escrima sticks all over my torso. In fact, just go read Hanshi’s article and observe those pictures of weapons. I feel like I’ve been beat with them all. I hurt so badly that it was painful to even face the shower stream today. When I was getting out of the shower, I almost looked for bruises before deciding that I’d really rather just get back in bed.
To make matters worse, Lil C woke up with a fever today. She’s spent the entire day sprawled on the sofa or in bed, much like Big I and I did for the past three days. I feel so horrible for her, because I truly can’t recall ever feeling more awful. Big I complained that her arms hurt and my head was pounding so horribly that I had moments where I thought there must be a demon in there eating my brain or something. We won’t even discuss the cough and its "by-products". It’s been a horrible couple of days.
I don’t know if it’s from the medication I’m on or from the actual illness, but I also have the absolute worst taste in my mouth, as if I’ve been chewing up aspirin all day or something. It’s disgusting and nothing makes it go away. Nothing.
If I had to look for a silver lining in all of this, I would have to say that I am going to have killer abs like no other. Sure, they hurt like hell and if anyone pokes me in the ribs, I’ll probably pass out instantly from the pain, but swimsuit season is nearing. . .
. . . and now it’s time for bed for the fourth time today. Be nice to my blog while I’m out sick or I will totally cough on you.
Tell Me Something Good
At 7:41 a.m., Big I stumbled into our bedroom breathing heavily and looking terrible. She then announced that she was going to throw up. As Mr. BBM quickly led her into our bathroom, I silently thanked God that she is now older and did not crawl into our bed to do her barfing business. That has happened one too many times.
Right now, she is fast asleep on the sofa, with her cheek propped up against the back of the cushion. I know she is really sick because usually I need to remind her that she is sick and needs to stop running around the living room. She has no appetite. She is as white as the few remnants of snow remaining in our front yard, and her forehead is warm. When are we going to catch a break?
Lil C just finished a round of antibiotics for an ear infection. I’m still coughing from whatever Big I brought home from school a few weeks ago. Even our Realtor has been infected from spending too much time with us. I’m thinking it might be wise to put Big I in a sectioned off room like E.T., and also that we might want to install a decontamination shower at our front door.
Yesterday we had two showings. One was a second showing and the Realtor once again, had all kinds of questions for us. Our neighbor told us that the couple was here FOREVER and that they were checking everything out. We thought we might have an offer in hand yesterday, but there’s been no news yet. We also sent our list of options to our Realtor so he can help us negotiate a good price on our new house.
Today everything is up in the air. Will we all be barfing by nightfall? Will we be well enough to leave the house on Tuesday for the Broker Open House our Realtor has planned? Will these people make an offer on our house? Will it be a good offer or one that makes us hang our heads in despair? Will the builder give us the options we want for the price we’re willing to pay? I absolutely hate not knowing.
Please, someone, just tell me something good.
Sleep Deprived
I’m going to bed entirely too late because I’m busy perusing the options sheet for our potential new house. I’m waking up entirely too early because once I’m awake I can’t go back to sleep. There are bathroom rugs to be washed and dishes to be put away and toys to be picked up and laundry to be folded. I’ve never been this organized in my entire life and it’s exhausting work.
I’m like a mini Martha Stewart. The other day, I caught myself considering folding the ends of the toilet paper the way they do in fancy hotels before our showing. Soon I’ll be putting chocolates on our own pillows and offering myself turn-down service. I think I’m losing it, but once you get on the Martha train, it’s hard to get off.
We have two showings scheduled so far for this weekend. One is a brand new first showing; the other a second showing. They’re both at the exact same time. I’m thinking that is really good for raking in some offers. Here’s hoping that a little whiff of competition brings the offers in ink. The only thing that stinks about them is that they are in the morning. We are a lazy crew around here. We’re rarely out of pajamas before noon on Saturday or Sunday and Mr. BBM and I like to linger over the leftover bacon and coffee for a couple hours and chat.
This weekend, we’ll be in high-powered cleaning and getting out of here mode and I’m not all that happy about it. The best possible scenario would be for a good offer to come in this weekend. Then we’ll know if we have to sacrifice the stone up to the sill or the 9 ft. basement ceilings on the new house, or if we can just go for them and not worry.
Our neighbors have offered to let us come over to their house during our showings. They said we’ll open a bottle of wine and spy on the newcomers through their office windows. I’m wondering if they’d mind if we switched the beverage to some serious coffee and whether or not pajamas and slippers would offend them. I can always offer them turn-down service and origami tissues and toilet paper. Then maybe they’ll let me take a very much needed nap.
Wishing on a House
Initial feedback from our one showing on Sunday is very good (we’re still waiting to hear the other feedback). So good in fact that they wanted to know how flexible we can be with a settlement date. My Realtor warned me to avoid getting on the roller coaster that is real estate until we have something in ink. No ink yet, but I’m at least glad that the initial feedback is good.
Apparently, the wife "loves it-can’t live without it" (I’ve SO been there myself) and the husband can be "brought on board" which basically boils down to: there are pink counter-tops in my kitchen and pink carpet in our bedrooms.
I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: we didn’t do it; we inherited it. If the wife loves this place as much as I did, I’m sure she’s telling her husband that "real men wouldn’t be bothered by pink" and that it "takes a manly man to be able to move in a house with so much pink." You know, build up his ego and get what you want. Here’s hoping she’s a smart cookie. Plus, there’s always the teal family room to equal things out.
We have yet another showing tonight and tonight is also our meeting with the builder people. Yesterday, I emailed our "wish list" to our Realtor. I divided it up into three categories "Must have," Would REALLY like," and "Would like." Included in the list of "must have’s" is the super bath package (I have lived with only a shower stall for the very last time), a gas fireplace, 9 ft. basement ceilings (How will I work with my bo if I don’t have this option?), some extended counter-top on the kitchen island, and some preferences regarding having stucco instead of siding.
It would be so incredible to go into tonight’s meeting with an offer on our house, but I realize this is probably wishful thinking. It is looking more and more likely though, that we will build our dream house instead of finding and potentially losing it. There is absolutely nothing on the market in our price range and desired location that isn’t full of nasty carpet, icky wallpaper, or strange smells, or a combination of all three and worse. Plus, all those houses who put jacuzzi tubs in the basement, because that totally makes sense (not). Mr. BBM and I are determined to purchase a home without wallpaper. We’ve already wasted too much of our life removing wallpaper from this house and Mr. BBM’s recent infusion of humor is probably directly related to how much wallpaper remover soaked into his skin recently. Here’s hoping that humor is the only side effect.
And then there was nothing but germs
The house is gone. Some out-of-town buyer came in and gave them an offer they couldn’t refuse. We couldn’t and didn’t want to compete. I feel like I’m grieving. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted it and I’m upset. We went to see another house tonight with high expectations and it was horrible. Pink and green nastiness, orange walls with green carpet. . . just awful. Plus, they totally lied about there being a 4th bedroom. There were only three and if that house was the square footage it says it was, well then my square footage is 4000.
Speaking of horrible, Lil C’s virus has turned into an ear infection and she has finally succeeded (after coughing in my face all week) to pass along her lovely flu-ish virus to me. Even Airborne couldn’t hold off this stupid virus. I want to crawl in bed, get under the covers, and just stay there all week long.
Back to square one.
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