I've been quiet again, for good reason.
It's not that I try to be busy. Or that I'm looking to win the Craziest Life Award.
Really, I'd be ok with a little boring normalcy, trust.
So, today, I finished my second week at work. I can't really say second full week because week one got a late start due to the hurricane that came through this area and then week two started with a holiday. Add to that the fact that we got out early last Friday and I had to take off at noon today and I'm really not looking forward to the whole five-day, forty-hour work week thing.
To back up a little bit, after the earthquake and the hurricane (we evacuated for 3+ days, but our house was pretty much untouched), I started work and then BD left for Norway.
Like, 6-hour time difference Norway.
I have been one super-tired mama.
School did start in the midst of all of that, too, but since we decided to keep Playette at her current school full-time and out of the district entirely, it truly felt like any other day. I really did think about the whole cute outfit and picture thing, but, yeah. That didn't happen. It was more like, "Pre-K! Yay! Ok, see you later."
BD got home late last night. I know this because at some point, I woke up gasping for air, in a state of fear-shock because someone was in my bedroom, and about 10 seconds later, I recognized him.
It was a long ten seconds.
I was really out of it though. I had been feeling bad for about 24 hours at that point, so I think I grunted my muted version of "Babe, I missed you soooo much! Welcome home! Muah, muah, muah!" and went back to sleep.
We talked some in the morning, but not much. I was rushing and he was getting Playette ready since he didn't have to go in to work.
That. Felt. Awesome.
Having help, I mean.
I had missed my parenting partner and dreamed of what mornings would be like with two of us to split the workload.
Anyway, I went to work, suffered through the morning, and finally realized that what was going on with my body could be classified under Not OK.
I drove myself to the urgent care down the street and by the time I got there, I was walking lopsided. When I got to the desk, I broke down in tears.
That was a very bad idea.
Because the stabbing pain in my chest then got way worse and I couldn't breathe or talk.
That's one way to skip the line.
Not that there was one, but still. I had kinda made myself top priority, regardless.
Diagnosis: Walking Pneumonia
This really hurts, yo.
I'm down for the weekend.
Let's hope that's it.
The killer irony in all of this is that I've been placed in a trailer at work for the next year during a remodel. I've been smelling an odor in there and inquired about it right away, based on my past upper-respiratory issues and all I've heard about these things being death traps. I told my boss yesterday that I wasn't meaning to be a pest right out the gate, but that it would really suck if I started getting stabby chest pain and ended up out of work for a week right away. I was poo-poo'd because, you know, Air Quality Tests cost money, and told to come back to them if I had symptoms.
That last convo I had with someone in an official capacity about the topic was this morning.
Right before I left for urgent care.
I think, come Monday, I win.
How bad, exactly, would it be to quit before I get my first check?
And, before I totally forgot, another one to add to that last post: I love how Playette sings and signs songs on the radio. It's super cute. But the one that's currently slaying me is a less-pop'y tune, her old standby fave. When she gets to the third line, she signs it like "Happy Birthday deer _________."
When those two hands go up to her head? Hilarious.
Not that I can laugh right now. Or cough. Or move.
Back to sleep I go.
Oh, and thank God, again, for ASL. It hurts to talk so I'm signing more. What's funny, too, is that BD had to use Playette as an interpreter this evening. I signed "hurt" and he was all, "huh? help?" so I finger spelled "H..." He says, "F?" Oh jeez.
My baby saved me.