Don't Get Too Excited, Jeremiah.

Dear Friends,
I am in not such a stabby place today. I am still grouchy (this according to Jeremiah, who probably would not have been surprised if my head did a full rotation a la Linda Blair) and still sick and confused, but today when I woke up I could BREATHE a little. Which was AWESOME.

So here is a true story for you.

The other night I got a little...claustrophobic is a good word. I got claustrophobic. The whole troop headed upstairs at once. That's SIXTEEN little legs, four little mouths, and lots and lots of fur. Plus the dogs and cats. Just kidding. Plus the Jer-ster and me.

And I needed a breather. So I went to the guest room, which is where I go for a breather. I would go to the craft room, but it is currently painted and empty. IT IS WAITING FOR JEREMIAH TO PAINT THE CEILING.

Not yet. Sadsies.

He says that he is waiting until I am healthy before he paints the ceiling. He wants me to be healthy so I can nag and tell him what he is doing incorrectly (his words).

And I agree. I need to be in my top-form in order to supervisor Jeremiah as he paints my ceiling.

Moving on...

And it was so cozy. And Mel and I swapped stories. She licked me a little. She stared. She laid down on the nightstand. I watched. I listened to random sounds. Relaxing. Sigh.

Next thing I know Jeremiah comes RACING into the room. I almost thought he was sleepwalking (there have been incidences for both of us, yes). He didn't get too into details, but I'm pretty sure he thought I WAS DEAD.

I am on new meds that (can) have some risky side-effects (Mostly if you are an alcoholic. I am not. At all. Unless having two drinks a year constitutes an alcoholic.), but I wasn't expecting an out of breath boyfriend clad in skeleton undies rushing the guest room. It ruined the relaxing breather.

So I don't know if I should be worried or relieved. I'm going to go with relieved. He looked concerned, which is good.

Good to know he's on top of it.

P.S. Blogger has been acting weird, yo. I am not sure what is going on here. It did not publish a post when it was supposed to do so. It also would not let me comment on my own post. So bear with me. (Or bare with me. But that might be awkward.)

P.P.S. I am going to pretend that is why you are not commenting.


DeAnne said...

You got punny at the end there, very nice! I hope you feel better soon :(

Emily said...

Yeah, I can't seem to shake it. I TOLD you that it is probably your fault.