Sick? Tired? Just Lazy?

Greetings from my nest of covers, books, remote controls and snacks!

This was a very busy week. My parents came up here on Thursday night to go with me to this hoop-de-la awards ceremony thingy in the city. (Confession: Ever since I couldn't find my way off the stage after winning a prize in the 7th grade science fair,*** I am EXTREMELY wary of accepting awards in public.) They spent the night here before driving to visit my sister in Boston, so I had the futon and TV all set up for them in the office.

***The stairs were one level below the stage! I got my medal, and I couldn't see the way off or down! It was awful! AWFUL! Luckily my dad was sitting on stage with the other teacher/presenters and subtly pointed to the stairs while I turned 80 shades of red, including "jalapeno.")

Yesterday, I just felt achy and tired, like my head was full of cotton and my eyelids were made of sandpaper. I shot my assignments, tried to suck it up and finally asked to go home a little early. I crashed on the still made-up futon with my laptop, transmitted the photos from home, and decided to indulge in a little R & R until I felt better.

That was nearly 24 hours, three TV movies, two whoopie pies, and one tragic college football game ago. I don't feel SICK sick- no fever, no cough, no stuffy nose, just a sore throat, itchy ears (in that congested eustation tube kind of way) and an absolute lack of desire to get off my ass. I've tried napping and a hot invigorating shower. Now I'm moving onto pastina soup, which is what Italian grandmothers make for children when they are sick.

The pets are being incredibly cuddly, even Fred, who recently peed in a pair of Joel's shoes after a particularly dramatic escape'n'capture episode in the hallway. (The siren call of the downstairs neighbor's bike was too much to bear; it is indeed a seductive whore.) But the landlords haven't turned on the heat yet, so I'm not sure the cuddling is motivated by love for the lady WHO SCOOPS YOUR POOP DAILY, you warmth-mooching cat.

I'm also pages away from the end of Rosalind Wiseman's "Queen Bee Moms and Kingpin Dads," a follow-up to her tour de force "Queen Bees and Wanna-Bes," which inspired the movie "Mean Girls." She explores the way that adults regress to junior high politics when it comes to "protecting," "advocating," and "providing every opportunity for" their children. I was inspired to buy it after an emotionally-charged encounter with a grade school Muffia boss who was so fixated on getting her child in front of the camera that she pulled her sobbing daughter from a class activity she didn't want to miss for a fake photo-op. I can not and WILL NOT stage anything, ever, anywhere. People in my field lose their jobs over things like that, and attempts to explain that only invited more drama, mockery, and SCREAMING, (and not from the third-graders in the room.) Long story short, and fifteen minutes of dysfunctional dynamic judo later, the Muffia boss ended up hugging me. Twice. Yeah.

Interestingly enough, the same Queen Bee Moms/Kingpin Dads/Entitled Parent/Wannabe/Sidekick/Popular Girl Crying in the Bathroom at the Jr High Dance power hierarchy has really reared its ugly head in the blogosphere during this little vacation-at-home of mine. It's fascinating but also tragic, because some (say, FOUR) bloggers genuinely have a reason to feel violated. Cyber-bullying, indeed. I think Ms. Wiseman might have fodder for her third book...