My husband is an absolute saint for putting up with me over this weekend. This cold has been a slow burn – I started feeling gross on Friday, felt even more exhausted on Saturday and just completely melted into a puddle of mucus and drippy eyed tears on Sunday. I am a miserable sick person and I am forever grateful that he puts up with me in my times of need, all while knowing that he a) will probably contract whatever illness I’m oozing and sneezing all over the house, b) can do no right while attempting to help me, as I am committed to being in a horrible mood, and c) has to sleep next to, hold, and pretend to be attracted to someone who has a leaky eye, a runny nose and a face full of angry red pimples. He really is wonderful. I so wish I wasn’t currently infecting him with this.
I usually have a fairly decent immune system – I get sick maybe once or twice a year. (Maybe that isn’t decent? I don’t know.) However, I’ve started working with enough new groups of children now that I’m all too aware that near-constant illness is part of teaching, at least for the first year you are working in a new place. You get slammed with all the lingering viruses that everyone else is immune to already and then the fancy new infections take advantage of your weakened state and go after you as well. It’s a nightmare. I had the flu on December 14. It is January 21 and I’m in the throes of a head cold. And if I remember correctly, I’ve had one or two other bugs since I started teaching again in July (too lazy to go through the very real and very easily accessible archive of this blog to get some actual facts). Ugh. What a lovely three-day weekend this has been thus far.
On Saturday night, when I was still refusing to believe I was sick (and therefore went out amongst the well and probably spread disease in my wake), we went to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, which, once we got settled into our seats, became a screening of The 6:30 pm Showing of a 3 Hour Movie: An Unexpected Place To Bring a Toddler. Look, I love kids. (Obviously.) I love them when they are babies. I love them when they are toddlers. I love them when they grow old enough to tell me jokes like, “Why did the hero flush the toilet? Because it was his duty!” I love them with a box, I love them with a fox, I love them here and there, I love them pretty much everywhere except in a dark room for three hours when they have access to loud foods and scary movie imagery. Apparently, my love has a limit. That being said, the movie was pretty great – if you’re into films inspiring such thought-provoking questions as, “Is that beautiful vista real or CGI? Can I go to there?” and “How the hell is Martin Freeman sprinting in those giant hobbit feet?”
I’ve spent the vast majority of the last few days laying around, staring at the walls of our house, and I’ve concluded that they are too sad and boring now sans holiday decorations. I’ve decided I am, for the first time in my life, going to decorate for Valentine’s Day. As soon as possible. With decor I’ve made myself. And I’m probably going to post about what huge terrible failures all the projects are. I hope you’re all excited!