As if this week wasn't stressful enough...
Eight more inches of snow (and still falling!) outside, and no sign of the guy who plows out or street and driveway. After last week's storm debacle, there is no way I'm going to haul my bum out of the house and into the office, 38 miles away.
Small mercy: My coworkers are OK with this. They all live much closer to the office than I do. And I'm already shoveling edited stories as fast as I can from home, so they don't feel like I'm slacking. Much.
My 1-year-old is puking up everything he ingests -- even water -- and has been since 2 a.m. I am taking a break from wiping up watery juice vomit to write this. I have already done two loads of pukey laundry, and probably should have thrown this sweatshirt in when I was doing that last load. Lovely.
My 3-year-old has a croupy cough -- what's up with all the croup now, anyway? Whenever I hear the word "croup" all I can think about is that part of "Anne of Green Gables" when Anne saves Diana Barry's little sister when she was about to choke to death from croup. No one uses ipacac nowadays, do they? Because I'm not going to run out and buy any, no matter how well it worked for Anne.
My husband is fevery, so he's at home, too. The deal was we'd both stay home and alternate taking care of the sickies, so that one would be on kid duty while the other worked uninterrupted. Um... guess what hasn't really happened?
Did I mention the snow? And that the 8+ new inches are on top of about 18+ inches that fell last week? And that it's all icing over? And my big, huge, dumb-as-a-bag-of-rocks dog wants to go in and out and in and out every few minutes? Note to dog: You are a black lab. The snow, it is white. I can see you, even if you pretend you can't see or hear me. Get back inside now, please.