Noon*...

My head feels like this.
Gapingly open.
And with pointy things sticking out.
gah.

that's what time I woke up this morning.
Or should that be afternoon?
I have not slept this late in, oh say, eight years.

"Why?" - you might very well be asking yourself - is this an early Mother's Day celebration? Or just a random celebration of sloth?

I wish.

I have a raging fever (which is weird, because as a rule I never run a fever) and the world's sorest throat. And my head is gunked up with cotton wool or something else that should not be there.

Ugh.

Fortunately, this is the first weekend we've had in a bit that has not been jam-packed with a dozen different things that we had to do. This, however, is not how I was planning on spending it.

Bubba and Schecky have been such champs. They let me sleep, and then they went to Publix and got me soup, and pink Jello and Ginger Ale, also pink.
How cute is that - that they thought that largely pink foods would help "feel Mommy better," as Schecky says?
But they may be onto something. The pink foods do seem to have strangely restorative properties....

I'm climbing back into bed now.

---

*Actually, it was a little bit closer to noon-thirty... if I didn't feel so cruddy, I would be reveling in the decadence of it....