It has been quite the twenty-four hours. Or maybe it’s been forty-eight hours. I really have no idea because that’s what prescription cough medicine will do to you.
I slept fairly well on Monday night, but didn’t feel any better on Tuesday morning. Which was unfortunate since I had a mammogram scheduled and didn’t want to cancel at the last minute. So I hauled myself off the couch and made my way to the imaging center by 9:30 a.m. and that felt like an accomplishment.
But then I got to the actual mammogram part of the mammogram. And it was fine. Except you know what you don’t want to do when you’re in full-blown mammogram position? Cough really hard. And you know what’s hard to do when you have bronchitis? Not cough really hard.
It was an experience I’ll treasure forever.
After that I had to mail off a few packages and figured I was already out and might as well get a few things done. What I didn’t factor in though was that my energy level would plummet and I’d be in desperate need of a nap by 11:00.
So I came home, put my pajamas on, curled back up on the couch where I belonged, and tried to forget about the earlier boob trauma with a few episodes of Friday Night Lights on Netflix. And it helped immensely because there is not much that ails a person that can’t be fixed with a little Dillon, Texas.
Right around the time Caroline got home from school, I began to notice that my eyelid felt kind of tender on the inner corner. So I went to the mirror to check it out and saw that I was beginning to experience a little bit of eye swelling that looked like it might be a sty.
Perfect. There is nothing better than knowing you’re about to be at a conference in front of a bunch of people with a swollen eyelid and a cough that makes people feel like they’d rather be in a room with Typhoid Mary.
And then I found out my blog was broken so I had to do extensive research to figure out the problem. And by extensive research, I mean that I ate four Hershey Special Dark miniatures while emailing my tech person, Cathy, a flurry of emails that read, “HELP ME!!!!!”
Fortunately, my blog was working again and my eye looked better when I woke up in the morning because I was debating going to Dot Mom with a patch over my eye. And people could call me Left Eye Lopes (may she rest in peace). Except it was my right eye and not my left eye.
And she never wore a patch but just had a black mark under her eye.
Whatever. It seemed better to go with Left Eye Lopes than Long John Silver. Although he managed to make a delicious fish with malt vinegar sauce in spite of only having one eye.
(I have no idea if he only had one eye. But he was a pirate so it stands to reason. I basically don’t know what I’m even typing at this point because I need to just go to bed.)
There was actually a time I had to wear a patch over my eye. I was in ninth grade and had somehow gotten a speck of paint on my eye that had to be lasered out or something like that. And then I had to wear a patch to school for FOUR DAYS when I was FOURTEEN. It’s a wonder that I even lived to tell about it.
And now you might be wishing I hadn’t because you just died from boredom.
See y’all tomorrow for Fashion Friday. There’s going to be a giveaway!
And now I’m off to see if I can cram all my clothes and toiletries for the weekend in one carry on bag. Because I enjoy a challenge.
If you’re at Dot Mom this weekend, please come say hi. I promise I’m only a little bit scary with my hacking cough and bad eye.