I’m sick. And not just a little bit.
It started out as an allergy attack on Wednesday. By Thursday I was on a mad hunt for drugs, even going so low as to coerce The BF to share his. It turns out I had a refill, so I picked up my meds at Longs and went home victorious. Only the allergies had progressed into a cold and the antihistamine was totally ineffective against my new set of symptoms. I muddled through work on Friday. My cold turned into a sinus infection, or at least that’s what my headache told me. By Friday evening I was in no mood to celebrate, which was a terrible thing because it was The BF’s birthday. I rallied my spirits tolerably and wrapped his gifts, but after he opened them I had not an ounce of energy left. I succumbed to the illness and let the birthday boy take care of me.
Here’s where I stooped to all sorts of bitchiness…
The BF claimed that despite my sickness he enjoyed his birthday in the exact way that he wanted—us on the couch with $60 worth of Chinese take-out. Being the wretched girlfriend that I am, I didn’t even make the brownie sundaes I had promised. After a fitful night’s sleep, I settled on the couch and turned into a whiny patient (minus any kind of patience). I screamed for coffee because it’s good for asthma and I needed a big heaping dose of caffeine. I complained about the service and the response time. I got up off the couch and nagged about the preparation. I tore open a packet of Sweet & Lo and frothed the milk myself because he was taking too frakking long.
I am a loathsome creature. After the first few drops of coffee hit my mouth I acquiesced into my more stable self. I managed to spend the rest of the afternoon not being a bitch, but it’s really sad that I think I should be rewarded for that. Then we went shopping for Mother’s Day. My frightfully low tolerance for indecision reared its ugly head. I mustered all the compassion I had and pointed The BF to an appropriate gift. But don’t nominate me for sainthood or anything just yet. After all, I made him buy his own gift-wrap. Even though I have a stockpile at home, I didn’t feel like sharing it with him and his mother. I know! Seriously, I am an evil woman!
What is wrong with me—aside from the fact that my infection seems to have settled in my chest (Yay! Bronchitis!) and I have to spend my entire Sunday in the middle of BFN with a set of ‘rents that so don’t “get me” and two teenage boys that have disturbingly poor hygiene and pretend I’m not in the room unless I’m picking on them?
Oh, I guess there is nothing else wrong…
Currently playing: Everything but the Girl, Big Deal
