Shoot Me Please. It Would Hurt Less And Be Quicker...

After a night of wishing I would just hurry up and die already, pleas for mercy which God seemed fit to ignore, it appears that I have a day of illness and misery to face. Alone, with a nine month old baby who is teething and constipated. A baby, whom I love very much, but whom I would rather just give to the first friendly face I see today.

Won't my sister appreciate that?

When I stumbled to the kids rooms, alternating between moaning and cursing, my darling children shrieked and told me they have never seen me so ugly looking.

Just what I needed to hear first thing in the morning to motivate my diseased ass first thing in the morning.

Any one want any children? They're cute, skilled at hiding dirty socks in the oddest places, ignoring the chunks of food on the dishes they are supposed to be cleaning and generally just smearing dirt around to help give the house a new look.

Best of all, they're FREE.

Kidding. I jest. It must be the lack of sleep due to the pain of the sore throat, inner ear infection and all around crap-tastic feeling one acquires when living with the plague.

Even Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog. Ever, is giving me a wide berth. Sure, he loved me when I may have had worms crawling out my ass, but swollen lymph nodes and horking up loogies apparently offends his delicate sensibilities.

Traitor. I'm sooo buying him the generic brand of doggie biscuits next time.

So please excuse this pathetic, whiny post. I'm all alone and I don't have my husband to whine too. I don't dare breathe near my children, or I will be dealing with this virus for weeks. Nobody likes trading disease like trading baseball cards.

Forgive my inarticulate ramblings, I'm still wishing for death.

Pray for a quick end to this people. Or at least for me to feel well enough to once again torture my beautiful children....