Sick Sucks

I'm writing this post from what I can only presume is my death bed.

Okay, so maybe I'm being a little dramatic, but I am sick, y'all. And so are all three of my boys. Only they're not sick in the "let's-lay-around-and-watch-TV-snuggled-under-blankets-and-recuperate" way. Of course not. They're acting as crazy and rambunctious as always, with the addition of a whole bunch of extra whining and wheezing and irritability and about ten times more snot.

Which of course means that my house is falling to pieces around me. This is day two of the illness, so laundry and clutter and toys are piling up with a quickness. I swear, the heavens were conspiring to torture me when they made me a natural neat freak and then stuck me with three piglets boys and a husband who is somehow impervious to the psychological effects of filth. I swear, I could be a non-cleaning hoarder with a cat-poop carpet and he'd never notice. Fortunately for him, I'm not - but unfortunately for me, no one around here seems to care about neatness and order as much as I do. "Just let it go" sounds really good in theory, but the thing is, it's not like anyone would pick up my slack.

So that's why, ever since I opened my crusty eyes this morning, I've been a raging bitch a tad cranky. I woke up mad that Curtis, who is on call 24-7 for his job, could ditch our weekend plans without a second thought when his stupid work cell phone rings, but can't call off to take care of me when I'm down. (I know, that's a hateful thing to say, but that's how I felt this morning. Just keepin' it real, y'all.) Before I even got up, I was yelling (er, croaking) things like, "Leave your brother alone!" and "Do not throw that!" and "Leave. Your brother. ALONE!!!" Then I peeled myself out of the bed and staggered into the kitchen, wracked with chills and a raw, burning throat, only to be faced with the clutter left over from yesterday - including the bag of Chinese takeout trash from last night's dinner. Seriously? Curtis left for work this morning and couldn't even take the stinking bag down to the trash can on his way out?

Rita was not a happy camper.

What sucks is that I've spent two of the last three weekends sick. First I had strep. Then I had one clear weekend, and now this, whatever it is. Normally I only get sick like twice a year, so my declining health as of late has been a real bummer. But this is also the first year I've had a child in public school who I swear brings home every damn germ breathed into his general vicinity.

The kicker? He only gets mildly ill. For, like, half a day. His brothers and I, on the other hand, get the full effect.

Anyway, even though it turned into a fever-fueled rant, the point of this post originally was to tell y'all that I'll post something better tomorrow. Unless I am in fact on my deathbed.

Did anyone ever die of overexposure to clutter? 'Cause I just might be the first.