So, hi. Obviously, I didn't die from the plague. (Thank you for asking, Wetzel. Did you get my card? What is your working email address these days? Where do you live? Why can't I find you? Don't make me sing Faith Hill Christmas carols at you! Because I will! "Where are you, WET-zel?/ Why can't I FIII-IND yooou?")
I took an absolutely unheard of three days off from work last week. I called out sick Monday and Tuesday. I went into work on Wednesday, where several of my co-workers did everything but beam me back to bed with the sheer force of their combined maternal instincts. I took off Thursday, and I'm pretty much better now except for an annoying lingering cough.
But look! My ears work again! I can yawn without whimpering in pain! Rockin'!
Meanwhile, Joel is sick now, despite ingesting a frightening amount of Airborne and washing his hands like Howard Hughes. He called out sick today, but I think he's going in tomorrow. We'll see if this illness hits him behind the knees with a steel rod like a man on Tonya Harding's payroll the way it did after my attempt to work last Wednesday.
Seriously, though, there has been so much sustained coughing in this apartment, followed by double hits of cough drops and Dayquil. Yesterday, I was choking on a pear, and I actually thought, "Damn, if this piece of pear shifts a little and starts blocking my windpipe, I am in DEEP SHIT. Because Joel will not come check on me. He thinks I'm coughing and looking for more cough drops. I will die here on the kitchen floor, and he will merely think I found the Halls. He might not find me for HOURS. Maybe I should find a pen and write a 'I am choking on a pear' note while I have enough oxygen to do it..."
Meanwhile, I'm truckin' down the holiday to-do list. I have all my cards sent, dozens of cookies baked, mostly everything wrapped, just a few more small presents to buy, most photo client orders filled if not shipped, plus getting ready for the Magical Manhattan Weekend coming up. There will be Christmas light-seeing, Reindeer hoof-print spotting, Santa-letter mailing, Nutcracker viewing, Rockefeller tree-viewing, and Kris Kringle-visiting.
I just have to clean, grocery shop, launder some towels and make an appointment for Bella at the groomer to take care of her Talons of Pre-Schooler Doom before the house guests arrive.
P.S. To Wetzel: "Katherine! Christopher! Babila! Give me your hand, come along with me!"