The pressure in my head is excruciating. When I swallow my ears make a crinkling sound (the bats in my belfry?), my eyes are red and tearing and my nose – oh my nose! I am making such horrid honking sounds that the golf course wants to hire me to scare the geese away. When I’m not honking I’m sniffling and making a vacuum type sucking sound that can’t be good. Where is all that stuff going!? Straight to my brain I assume.
Creating little mucus tumors that will burst and cause my head to explode.
It’s all the discomfort of being on a plane without getting to go anywhere!
I’ve always had sinus issues. I’m guessing it’s genetic – Mom always had headaches (crazy) and Dad was always sniffling (cocaine). Considering the family gene pool is awash in alcoholism, bi-polar disorder and just plain insanity I suppose I lucked out.
“Stop whining you big fat baby”
“It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to”
I have decided I have an imaginary sidekick (sounds like psychic in a Scottish accent) and I have named him Craig Carson. Craig for Ferguson of course, and Carson for Carson Kressley, the adorable, supportive sweetheart from “Queer Eye” who now runs around making women feel better about being naked. Best of both worlds – I can fantasize about having sex with the Craig part (it’s huge I hear) as soon as Carson makes me feel better about being naked (I predict the year 2121).
Craig (the real one) has been sick all week. Coincidence!? Yes – coincidence – the only thing Craig could ever catch from me is a wave as he leaves the stage. Being the man’s man that he is, the virile (viral?) regular guy of TV he has whined about it incessantly. He even dared to bitch about CBS not giving him a sick day. No sick day!? Holy Crackers you millionaire surrounded by adoring fans and tons of support staff – how did you survive!?
“I thought you adored Craig?”
“I do, why?”
“Cause you’re being a bitch about him”
“No I’m not, I’m just jealous – I want everyone to think I’m adorable when I’m sick and I want a freakin’ sick day!”
Sick days are really hard to come by in my life. When I was a kid I gagged at the idea of being home with my parents so I always went to school. Even in High School – I always went towards the building – I may not have always made it into the building (smoking reefer on the boardwalk) but I certainly didn’t stay home.
As a working single Mom, sick days are reserved for when your kid is sick. You drag yourself in and make a big show of being fine so that you can then invent a fever and a cough when your kid needs Mommy to stay home with him. I don’t think the working world is all that supportive of parents today – imagine what it was like 30 years ago.
When you run your own business who do you call? Quite the dilemma. Even when I had staff I had to be there – the best I could hope for was to be at home, on the computer, checking their files and answering the same question over and over. Now that I run a one woman show – well, you can do the math.
“You know – you could ask for some help and sympathy”
“I suppose – perhaps I am a bit (a lot) passive-aggressive about this”
“There you go again, being all psychological – you are sick, sick in the head”
“Shut up you bastard, I’m rethinking this whole sidekick/psychic thing and I can make you disappear”
I really should ask for a little TLC but it’s exhausting. I have to ‘splain what I need and then listen to all the things my (adult) kids (son and wife) plan to do for me. They’re going to wash the dishes (someday) and they’re going to bring me soup (the kind I hate) and make me tea (I drink coffee). They’re going to clean the litter box (when the smell is deafening) and they’ll be right there (as soon as the movie ends/cell call is over/during half-time).
Do you realize that if Moms all over the world spent one hour talking about what they’re going to do the collective sound of all those tasks being verbalized would drown out the universe.
“So your kids are selfish little (big) shits?”
“Again, you are not getting it. They’re lovely, kind people who, for the big stuff, would do anything for me – I just want to be pampered. I just want a sick day – I want to be Ferris Bueller – without the parade and the singing and dancing, I want Bon Bons and a movie and … ”
“Oh please, you’d last 5 minutes and you’d be up cleaning off the TV screen or organizing the Bon Bons by size and flavor”
Craig Carson had to leave. I hate when people (imaginary or real) tell me the truth I don’t want to hear. Even my imaginary sidekick/psychic is a pain in the ass.
“Well you created me!”
“I did, didn’t I – what the hell is wrong with me!?”
and on I go …sometimes it is exhausting being me.
Creating little mucus tumors that will burst and cause my head to explode.
It’s all the discomfort of being on a plane without getting to go anywhere!
I’ve always had sinus issues. I’m guessing it’s genetic – Mom always had headaches (crazy) and Dad was always sniffling (cocaine). Considering the family gene pool is awash in alcoholism, bi-polar disorder and just plain insanity I suppose I lucked out.
“Stop whining you big fat baby”
“It’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want to”
I have decided I have an imaginary sidekick (sounds like psychic in a Scottish accent) and I have named him Craig Carson. Craig for Ferguson of course, and Carson for Carson Kressley, the adorable, supportive sweetheart from “Queer Eye” who now runs around making women feel better about being naked. Best of both worlds – I can fantasize about having sex with the Craig part (it’s huge I hear) as soon as Carson makes me feel better about being naked (I predict the year 2121).
Craig (the real one) has been sick all week. Coincidence!? Yes – coincidence – the only thing Craig could ever catch from me is a wave as he leaves the stage. Being the man’s man that he is, the virile (viral?) regular guy of TV he has whined about it incessantly. He even dared to bitch about CBS not giving him a sick day. No sick day!? Holy Crackers you millionaire surrounded by adoring fans and tons of support staff – how did you survive!?
“I thought you adored Craig?”
“I do, why?”
“Cause you’re being a bitch about him”
“No I’m not, I’m just jealous – I want everyone to think I’m adorable when I’m sick and I want a freakin’ sick day!”
Sick days are really hard to come by in my life. When I was a kid I gagged at the idea of being home with my parents so I always went to school. Even in High School – I always went towards the building – I may not have always made it into the building (smoking reefer on the boardwalk) but I certainly didn’t stay home.
As a working single Mom, sick days are reserved for when your kid is sick. You drag yourself in and make a big show of being fine so that you can then invent a fever and a cough when your kid needs Mommy to stay home with him. I don’t think the working world is all that supportive of parents today – imagine what it was like 30 years ago.
When you run your own business who do you call? Quite the dilemma. Even when I had staff I had to be there – the best I could hope for was to be at home, on the computer, checking their files and answering the same question over and over. Now that I run a one woman show – well, you can do the math.
“You know – you could ask for some help and sympathy”
“I suppose – perhaps I am a bit (a lot) passive-aggressive about this”
“There you go again, being all psychological – you are sick, sick in the head”
“Shut up you bastard, I’m rethinking this whole sidekick/psychic thing and I can make you disappear”
I really should ask for a little TLC but it’s exhausting. I have to ‘splain what I need and then listen to all the things my (adult) kids (son and wife) plan to do for me. They’re going to wash the dishes (someday) and they’re going to bring me soup (the kind I hate) and make me tea (I drink coffee). They’re going to clean the litter box (when the smell is deafening) and they’ll be right there (as soon as the movie ends/cell call is over/during half-time).
Do you realize that if Moms all over the world spent one hour talking about what they’re going to do the collective sound of all those tasks being verbalized would drown out the universe.
“So your kids are selfish little (big) shits?”
“Again, you are not getting it. They’re lovely, kind people who, for the big stuff, would do anything for me – I just want to be pampered. I just want a sick day – I want to be Ferris Bueller – without the parade and the singing and dancing, I want Bon Bons and a movie and … ”
“Oh please, you’d last 5 minutes and you’d be up cleaning off the TV screen or organizing the Bon Bons by size and flavor”
Craig Carson had to leave. I hate when people (imaginary or real) tell me the truth I don’t want to hear. Even my imaginary sidekick/psychic is a pain in the ass.
“Well you created me!”
“I did, didn’t I – what the hell is wrong with me!?”
and on I go …sometimes it is exhausting being me.
