I’m mostly dead, I think

It’s hard to avoid getting a cold when another person in the house has one. Especially when the other person with the cold likes to SNEEZE IN YOUR FACE and then laugh about it.

Oh yes, sneezing is high comedy in our house. This is why I acquired Jillian’s sniffles and my body mutated them into the plague. Jillian is toddling happily around the house, holding the travel baby wipes container and a granola bar wrapper, wearing one sock. I, on the other hand, am a slave to the tissue box and my head is so stuffed up that I can hear almost nothing, even with the hearing aids in. I’m thinking about taking them out altogether, but then I’m afraid I’ll really be deaf. I can’t swallow and have become a mouthbreather.

It’s very difficult to be this sexy, yes.

On the other hand, the Alka-Seltzer Plus makes for some interesting dreams. I had a dream that I’d been living in an apartment for years before I realized there was a whole other set of rooms off the bathroom, including a kitchen with ten ovens. I had Gordon Ramsay there to help me throw a party or something and I asked him, “do I really need these ten ovens?”

Apparently I did. I’ll never know what Dream Gordon’s answer was because I was cruelly awakened by the sound of “PRAISE JESUS” coming out of my baby monitor. That thing picks up some weird crap. Or else Jillian has started a tent revival in her room. I really hope not – that’s not going to make for a good bat mitzvah project, methinks.

Oddly, even though I could barely drag myself out of bed this morning, I managed to sweep and mop the kitchen floor. It was that bad, I suppose, that I found some energy somewhere and got it done. I’m weird.

Now I must be off… it’s been a few minutes since I’ve heard anything from the rest of the house, which means Jillian is up to something.