Being sick on a weekend sucks. I feel like I have lost my whole weekend. Dereck remarked last night on how peaceful and restful the day was and I said, "Like Shabbat." Yes, that is how it is supposed to be.
But there is no excuse for sleeping away your Sunday morning, even if you are sick. I haven't been awake long enough to say for sure, but I think I am feeling better. Yesterday I described it as "Not all the cylinders are firing." Every time I stood up, I wanted to be lying down.
Today I still feel a little off, but it's hard to know whether that's because I haven't woken up yet, or because of the bug. If I still feel off tomorrow, I'll go have a strep test, though my throat mostly feels fine. Any twinges I feel in my throat could just be allergies.
Okay, I was just in the bathroom (I had been filling up the tub, when Tommy, my wunderkind, ran in and turned off the water, as he is prone to do, and I called, "No, leave it on!" To which his little six year old voice chirped back, "Okay Mommy, I don't care if you flood the whole house!" so he turned it back on, and I had to check to make sure it wouldn't boil my flesh off when I stepped in), minding my own business, and it became very clear to me that my stomach is NOT okay.
That makes the sleep I had this morning seem like not enough.
We have a picnic at 1:00 so the kids can meet their campus pals, and then flu or no flu, I am going to Walmart and buying storage tubs and these kids are working on their rooms.
I was having a disturbing dream sequence this morning and I was trying to stay asleep long enough to resolve it-- when simply waking up would have shown that it was resolved.
We've been talking about stress dreams, lately, and last night I had one of my more typical dreams. In the dream, for some reason, I have decided to reconcile with Mark and move back in with him, with the kids. In prior dreams, I would move in with him and then things would deteriorate, so I would have to go through the process of disentangling myself all over again, but it got easier each time.
Now, I have progressed to the point where I put on the brakes before I actually move back in with him.
But last night, he had agreed to move out of his big house (it was not his house, it was my childhood home) and move into a trailer with me and the kids so I could finish grad school. We actually did live in a trailer our first year of marriage, about a hundred years ago.
But then I had second thoughts, even though all of our stuff was in a moving van together, so I suggested he move back into his house. Alone. So he asked me how I would afford the trailer alone, and I said I'd get a roommate. And then he said I couldn't move the kids into a trailer. (That was only okay when he was going to live there too). So, to try to appease him, I told him we'd all move back home together, and then I was secretly in a flurry of trying to figure out how I could find a roommate so I could live in the trailer before the moving van was unloaded.
And I didn't figure it out.
But in the meantime, I flew a small airplane, was addicted to Garfield videos, hung out for a long time in the Kirksville airport, which grew more and more labyrinth-like as the dream progressed, and ended up having a long, spooky conversation with the head of our computer services at work about how computers will take over the planet in the next twenty years or so, and he was sharing with me classified information that was broadcast over the Lifetime network in movies with a young Cynthia Nixon.
No wonder I am still tired.
There was this whole bizarre sequence in the airport bathroom too, with a bunch of women who were presumably all going to get on this little airplane, and the toothpaste we had all switched to.
It disturbs me very much when my own subconscious does product placement. Very much. I don't watch that much television!
The toothpaste? Was Colgate.
I use Crest.