I'm really, really, really sick.
Swine flu. My two daughters are home with me each on opposite tail ends of this crap.
My boyfriend is wearing a jock strap on his face (medical mask) and I think the police have cordoned off my block.
Cecelia, my "wife" as I call her (she's technically my nanny, but that word just doesn't seem to encompass the deep love and commitment I feel for and from this woman.), keeps plying me with soup. I should have been such a good wife.
The only one unaffected? My son. Which is ironic because when he was a baby I jokingly referred to him as "the weak link." I know that sounds mean. Especially from the boy's mother, but it was true. He ALWAYS got sick. If someone in Poughkeepsie sneezed, he was down for the count.
But now he seems to be holding up in the midst of this plague. His Y chromosome thumbing it's nose at us.
We'll see how long it lasts. Fingers crossed people.