Well, I'm pretty sure I'm dying. From the worst freaking cold-sinus-chest-awfulness ever. Dramatic? Me? Never.
Truly, though, I've been sick since Thursday. I had to text a friend (it's like dialing a friend on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire) to decide for me if I should go for a run on Thursday. Once I was honest about how blah I was feeling, she was very clear in her recommendation - nope, nada, there's no way this one run will help you feel better than taking a day off to take care of yourself.
Turns out Thursday was the last day before TODAY that I felt capable of doing anything, including getting dressed, getting out of bed, eating and being even remotely presentable.
I have no idea what this post is about except that it's heavy on the whine-factor.
I want to feel better! I want to not have dry-heaved in the Starbucks drive-thru line this morning (hey, Starbucks, yeah, no coffee, just oatmeal, woops, hold on....nope, I'm back!) or gotten dizzy at the nursery where I was searching for more plants for our back yard (someone.stop.me.).
I guess what I've really been thinking about is this: who takes care of us? I still feel like someone will tell me when I need to just go lay down and I've done too much. But it so doesn't happen. I should know by now, right? I mean, I know when my kids or my husband or my friends need to stop moving and take care of themselves. So how come I can't see it for me?
So, this week, my to-do's are: GET BETTER and LEARN HOW TO STOP.
We'll see how those go...
Cheers -
Mama H
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