What the what??? Who knew I had a trucker mouth?

I am by no means mechanically inclined. 

Let me be honest, I have trouble getting the windows to lock sometimes.  So, when I went to get the milk out of the fridge for my tea, and found the top shelf soaking wet, I immediately freaked.  And out of nowhere, I started using language that would make an inmate blush.  I have been known to throw out a few choice words now and then, but this was something altogether different.  There have absolutely been things in the past 7 months that would require such a reaction, but it was the fridge that did it.

I believe the words that actually came out of my mouth first were “mother  f*&er, son of a f*&%^ing b*^$% which were quite tame compared to the words that followed that I can’t even pretend to “cover” up here. 

The top shelf of the fridge was FULL of water…what the hell?  At first I thought something in the fridge was leaking and then my superior mechanical mind went to work and realized it was the freezer leaking into the fridge.

I opened the freezer and everything, I mean everything, was either thawed or well on the way.  Again, “mother  f*&%^”.   Insert more choice words. 

Normally I wouldn’t panic so much, BUT…I went grocery shopping yesterday and my fridge and freezer were FULL.  I try to shop every two weeks, because I have set up a pretty strict budget for myself.  The kids and I create a weekly menu and I base my shopping on that.  You see where I am going here.

The freezer was warm, the fridge was warm, there was water everywhere.  Normally, I would have stood there and cried, because that`s what I do.  Not this time.  I was pissed right off.  I am pretty sure I had channelled the anger that started brewing during my funk last week.  Holy hell…It was almost ridiculous how pissed off I was. 

I started pulling everything out of the freezer, throwing it in the sink with such anger that some of the stuff actually bounced back out, which made me even more mad.  I started to pull the soaking wet items from the top shelf of the fridge, also chucking those in the sink.  I had a look in the fridge, stopped and smelled the cheese, the yogurt.  Fruits, veggies…thankfully it was still ok.  Then I really panicked…screw the fruits, veggies and dairy…what about the bacon?  Phew… the bacon was alright.  I stood there spewing the foulest language I had ever heard come from my lips, or heard ever for that matter and I had worked in the Correctional system and was married to a trucker.

Then an actual light from heaven shone down,  right into my freezer…I think I even heard a choir sing.  I found not one, but two Skor chocolate bars I must have hidden for just such an occasion.  And since they were thawed, I had to eat them. 

At this point I am sitting on my kitchen floor, surrounded by rotting food, eating my chocolate and  wondering what I was going to do.  Will the fridge be ok until tomorrow?  I have a lot of food in there.  If I keep the door closed and possibly move some stuff to the deep freezer, I might be ok.  Should I start cooking some of the totally thawed stuff so at least it doesn’t have to go in the trash?  Not really how I wanted to spend my Sunday evening.

And of course it`s Sunday, so there really isn`t anyone to call. I would rather eat rotten chicken and risk salmonella than call the ex to help.  My thoughts turn to how much this repair is going to cost me.  The fridge isn`t even that old, but out of warranty of course.  My budget is slightly flexible, but definitely not flexible enough if I need a new fridge. 

As I am debating what to toss and what to keep, I examine a package of hotdogs.  I am pretty sure that hotdogs are ok to re-freeze after they have thawed…they aren`t real meat anyway.  Into the"keep” pile they go.  The only things I didn’t end up keeping were some soggy chicken nuggets, my favourite chicken & spinach pizza, a bag of wet pita bread, 2 bags of milk and a container of soup that was questionable long before today.  It all went into the trash.  Thankfully that was it. 

Still wondering if the fridge is going to be ok until morning, I got to work cleaning up the water that was not only in the fridge, but now dripping out on to the floor.

While I wiped out the top shelf, I noticed the dial in the fridge was turned to OFF.  What the F*&%!!!  Since I have been home alone all weekend, how the hell does that happen?  I mean, you have to physically turn the dial to get it in the off position.  Insert swear words, but this time out of pure joy.  Yes, extremely foul language can also be used in moments of joy.

Low and behold, I turned the dial to ``normal`` and the fridge suddenly came to life. 

I am not sure how it happened or why it happened, I am just happy that I figured it out without calling in a repair man and looking totally ridiculous.  I was kind of disappointed I didn’t have a legitimate reason to eat the cookie dough (seriously, the package open when I got there), but happy just the same.

The lessons learned here today…always check the on/off switch, find a reason to eat the cookie dough, and throw down the F-bombs when necessary.  Who knew having a trucker mouth could be so therapeutic?

What the funk?

Ya, ya I know…it’s been a while since I last blogged.  Thanks for all the messages asking whether I had officially been admitted to the nuthouse.  No, not the nuthouse (not yet anyway) but definitely some much needed “hermit” time.  Let’s call it my end of winter funk.

It’s been a couple of weeks of introspection, pity party and funk.  That’s the only way I can sum it up. A friend of mine who has been through this, told me this process would be one step forward and two back.  So, in my usual fashion, I am going to be totally honest with my readers and say, this is a “two step back” phase.   And it sucks.

It’s been months since I have been a weepy mess, but out of the blue here it is again.  I miss my family as we used to be.  I miss our Sunday morning breakfasts, our family game nights, our weekend back road trips.  Sure I still do all those things with the kids, but the empty chair at dinner suddenly makes our once too small table, feel quite large. 

I miss all the things that you take for granted when you have them.  The support that you know is waiting for you at the end of the day, the snuggle on the couch in the evening watching your favourite tv shows, the dances in the kitchen after the kids should be in bed, but are peeking down the stairs to spy, the quiet conversations in the car while the kids sleep in the back seat, the breathing beside you at night that is so familiar it’s almost like your own breath.  

I miss sharing 20 years of private jokes and falling asleep knowing that I am not in this alone.  Because regardless of the amazing friends and family that support me, at the end of the day, I am doing this alone. 

I have definitely felt the change in myself…an inner peace if you will, about what has happened, what I have learned and where I am going. It’s not easy to move on from 20 years, but I am getting there.

I firmly believe that you can be in a funk, yet still keep a positive light in your heart that this hurdle is just that…it’s not permanent, but a necessary part of the process.

I have tried, I mean really tried to take the high road.  I don’t talk badly about him to the kids or in front of the kids, or anyone really.  I am accommodating, flexible, even helpful for the sake of the kids.  I haven’t taken legal action or enforced our agreement as written, even though I should.   I keep a positive attitude and outlook for myself and for my kid’s sake.  There are times when I can feel the anger set in and it takes all I have to reel it back in so it doesn’t take over.  Would it help if he showed some regret, some emotion, if he didn’t act like nothing has changed?  I am not sure. 

But here I am, playing the weepy, ex wife role that seems to be my new identity these days.  Why?  I don’t really know.  Sigh

So now what?  I am scared of what’s behind me and I am scared of what’s in front of me.  I am kind of stuck in this middle place…a funk.

How do you get out of a funk?

I am not really sure, but today is the day that I stop playing the victim, pick myself up like I always do and plow forward because the other option isn’t an option.  And two weeks in a funk is long enough.

Blood, sweat, tears and a pipe wrench

What is that smell?

No, it’s not success…it’s my kitchen drain.

I had everyone I know come and smell my sink and try and diagnose the odour.  Is it the drain, is it the water itself?  Some of my “sniffers” think it’s the drain, others think it’s a sulfur smell from the water.  Whatever it is…it reeks!  I think it smells like wet dirt.

I tried the baking soda/vinegar volcano action, I tried drain cleaners, I tried bleach, everything and anything.  Nothing was working.

So…because I have been known to fix a few things, out of necessity and not desire, I decided I was going to take the pipes apart.  Ya, ya…I know.

I knew enough to shut the water off, which I did successfully.  I knew enough to put a small pan under the pipes.  I also knew enough to choose what I assumed was a pipe wrench over the screwdriver and hammer I originally picked up.  Side note:  a nail shoved into a broken cork and then pried with a hammer can open any bottle of wine when you are desperate.

As I pull everything out from under the sink, I realize just how filthy is it under there.  I can’t work in a space like this, so a half hour later, the cupboard is clean, I get ready to prove to myself that I can in fact clean a drain.

I start “wrenching” the pipes apart, and beads of sweat start appearing on my upper lip.  And since I am famous for my sweat mustache, I don’t even wipe it away.  It’s like a badge of honour.

I start to realize, these pipes are pretty tightly connected  (I guess there is a reason for that)…but I am not going to stop now.  The stench from the drain taunts me and I am not giving up.

The pipes begin to loosen, water starts leaking from the opening, my hand slips and I catch my finger on some part of the sink.  I don’t know any of the technical terms for any of the parts that I am currently holding, but that’s ok.   I notice blood dripping on my clean cupboard…shit!  I am not stopping now.  Making a bandage from some paper towel, I plow forward. 

Aside from regular “gunk” (yes, I am sure that’s what real plumbers say), and a lego man I have rescued from every drain in the house, there isn’t anything that would point to my kitchen odour.    

At this point, I am sweaty and bloody so the only logical thing to do is sit on my kitchen floor with a pipe in one hand, a lego man in the other and cry.  

I pepped talked myself into putting the pipe back in place and sat on the floor slightly defeated.

You may have won this round stinking sink drain…until we meet again.

Out of the way…Hot sweaty fabulous mess coming through!

Ok...so new challenge for myself.  Try new things, push myself further and stop being such a damn lazy baby.

The solution?  Hot yoga. I have been doing yoga on and off for about 12 years now.  Even have my own mat and know the yoga terms.

Yoga…love it.

Stress relief…super love it.

Exercise without feeling like I am a flailing idiot…super duper love it.

Yoga postures practiced in a heated room ~37C/~ 98F…maybe kinda sorta love it?

Day 1

My first class.  60 minutes of strengthening, stress relief and cleansing.  Sounds like just what I need.  Off I go, with my yoga mat, a towel, water and over flowing enthusiasm.  I am headed to the studio alone, because that’s my new thing now and I am ready to flow.

Stripped down to as little as I possibly could, which means a t-shirt and yoga capri pants, I head to the studio and open the door.  Immediately, the heat hits me.  Now hear me out.  I am not a heat loving kind of gal.  Summer is my least favourite season and I won’t even get started on what it does to my hair.

Anyway…my hair doesn’t matter, because it was pulled back in a head band which by the end of class made me look like a sweaty lion.  But I am rambling…back to the class.

I lay my mat down, organize my towel, my water and get into Savasana.  Laying flat on your back, arms at your sides and palms up.  As I am laying there, I am supposed to be setting my intention for my practice.  All I can think about is the heat in the room and how it might affect my asthma.  I mean, I didn’t even bring my inhailers!

Focus, breathe, set your intention….I just kept repeating it to myself.  My body adjusted to the room, I had an amazing session and felt great after.  And yes, I was soaking wet, slightly giddy, had a lion mane for a hair do and felt fabulous on my way out.

Day 2

Feeling confident and loving the hot in the hot yoga, I decide to branch out and go to an evening class, where there were more people, the room was a little warmer from the day and the class was 75 minutes long.  No sweat…lol

First of all let me just say, I was quite distracted by the sweaty, shirtless, sculpted man who decided to put his mat right in front of mine.  Anyway…dragging along my cousin and meeting a friend there for moral support, we got right down to business.  The instructor was great, provided a challenging series of poses for us and I was sweating.  I mean really sweating.  Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I had to do a double take.  Dripping from every single cell in my body, I looked like I just climbed out of a swimming pool.  Face red, clothes stuck to my body from sweat and a puddle on my mat, I plowed ahead.  Around the 60 minute point, I thought to myself….I am going to make it…I have done a 75 minute class!!!

Downward dog series…love this part of practice.  It`s not only my favourite because I know the end of the class is near, I just love the flow of it.  Head down, ass in the air, sweat dripping into my eyes, my mouth, up my nose…I mean even my hair follicles were sweating.  I felt great.  After the 3<sup>rd</sup> set of downward dog flow movements, I started to feel a little dizzy.  Ok…a lot dizzy. Sweet Jesus, was it getting hotter in the room or was it just me.  The series of movements in downward dog flow can be quick…hence the term `flow`.  Moving as gracefully into pigeon pose as I could manage, I thought for sure I was going to puke. 

I made a mental note not to eat before class again.  Dinner was sitting in my gut like a lump of, well vomit.  Don`t puke, breathe, don`t puke, breathe, quickly became my mantra as I eased myself out of pigeon and put my head in my lap, crumpled up in child`s pose with my face on the floor in a puddle of my own sweat.  Puking in a room full of strangers would be horrifying enough, but remember the room is heated people…the smell alone would probably have me banned from the studio for life.

As I am crumpled in a sweaty hot mess, in a heap on my mat, I gave myself a quick pep talk.  For the love of all things holy, I have had two children…a C-Section with one of them.  I have survived a baby with colic.  I have had broken bones, held a person while they took their last breath, fought off a skunk in the driveway while putting out the garbage, manhandled a bag of softener salt, internet dated…get your ass up and finish this class like the stubborn asshole I know you are. 

Yes, I finished the class, no I didn`t vomit and I went home with an intense feeling of satisfaction and gas.  Lots and lots of gas.

Day 3

I went back.  I put out my best intentions to the universe while I stood in warrior pose in the sunlight. I felt strong, powerful and proud.  I made it through 60 minutes of stretches, poses and flows, felt my stress sweat right out of my soul and I left it there in a puddle on the studio floor.  And because I am who I am, I cried all the way home and let a few more bricks in my wall come down. 

To be continued….

The Truth…the good, the bad and the ugly

I debated for a long time whether to write about the ugly truth of my marriage breakup, let alone actually send it out into the universe.  The truth is…I don’t need to justify myself or my situation to anyone and the fact remains, this journey is about moving forward, not reliving the past.  It is not about that.  It never was.  It never will be.

I said right from the beginning that I wasn’t going to write about the nasty details of the separation or put this into a negative light.  To go back on that now would be disrespectful to my journey.   I still feel that way, however, there are some of you out there who sit and judge me without knowing what went on behind closed doors. Let’s face it, we all do that.  There are some of you who actually do know what went on behind closed doors and still judge me.  It doesn’t really matter because this is about me, not you. 

There are those of you who read because you have an interest in my journey.  It could be because you are going through your own struggles.  It could be because you just want to be entertained.  It could be because you are cheering me on.  It could be all of these reasons and I thank you from the bottom of my ever healing heart for your support and encouragement. 

Ultimately I am choosing not to spew the ugly truth of the past year because the unstoppable motion my own healing is far too important.  In the end I let my heart guide me, because that is who I am.  I have reclaimed my power.

I am not perfect.  We all make mistakes.   We are all only human after all.  I gave every last ounce of myself to saving my marriage and the fact is, he didn’t.  That is not my opinion, he will even tell you that.  While I agonized over the loss of my family and wondered how I could save us, the front door was already closing behind him.

Here is the edited version of the ugly side of the truth:

I am doing well.  More than well actually.  At first, I didn’t want to do better without him.  I wanted to need him.  Turns out I don’t and that can be a hard pill to swallow.

I know I deserve more but feel guilty for thinking it and feeling guilty for moving forward just doesn’t get you anywhere.  So, I have chosen to release guilt’s grip on me.

Losing an extended family that you have always known is almost harder than losing your husband.

The small town we live in has a quick and ruthless gossip network.  People are seeing who he is and unfortunately, with his inflated ego, he doesn’t see that people pity him, not support him.  I really do feel sad for him.

What he doesn’t know that the kids curl up in my son’s bed together and sing songs to each other with a towel rolled up under the door so they can’t hear the things he says to me. 

There are people who have taken pleasure in the “I told you they would never last” or the “I am not surprised.”  To you, my wish is that you never have to go through this.

Even though I hide it well, my own heart terrifies me.

Accepting that our marriage was over long before the official separation was a hard truth to acknowledge.

Panic attacks definitely feel like a heart attack/suffocation.

I will always wonder whether I will be good enough for anyone because I have allowed his words to leave a mark on me.  I am a work in progress :)

Here is the truth of what has come out of my awakening.

I have done more, seen more and honoured my true self more in the last 6 months than the last 20 years.

 I have taken on challenges, personal, emotional, financial, and come out on top, even when I wanted to give up.

I have been at the very bottom and climbed, sometimes clawed, my way back into the light. I have come so far that I am not giving up now.

I deserve more and will not settle and do not feel guilty about that.

 I have come face to face with my own personal demons and I am winning.

 I have been given opportunities that I never would have dreamed of. Like a publishing offer for a blog that has put my life on display in the hopes that it gives a voice to those people who can’t find theirs.

I cry...sometimes it takes me by surprise and I am ok with that.

I have found out the hard way who really does support you in times of challenge and despair.  I have accepted this lesson and the loss that comes with it.

I have become friends with new people who have brought clarity and unwavering support into my life. 

I have strengthened my already amazing bonds with the people who truly care about me.

I have seen the depth and strength of my children and am still amazed.

I have dated (gasp) and survived and have been wise enough to see the reasons these people entered my life and have been strong enough to know it wasn’t right.

I have found a peace in my life that I am not sure I ever had but am grateful to have finally found it.

I can breathe.  Guilt free and unapologetic.

Fan Mail…you asked, I answered

Mail bag has been opened…and I do have to say that I am kind of surprised at the amount of messages I get regarding the blog.  Questions, comments, support…it`s all so uplifting.  So, just a quick thanks to everyone who is following my journey.

Here are a few of the most asked questions that I am sent.  My answers are honest and not what everyone wants to hear or will agree with, but it is my blog and I can post what I want lol.

Where did you come up with “Today is the day?”

Around the second weekend that the kids were with their dad, and the devastation of what was happening was at an all-time high, I found myself listening to the radio in my car in my driveway, not wanting to go into an empty house, crying my head off.  Shania Twain’s song “Today is your day” came on.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMciyWyugKY&ob=av2e

I just sat there and cried.  Then I realized, today is my day…it is the day…to become who I was meant to be.  I wasn`t living in anyone`s shadow anymore. 

Why are you putting so much effort into this?

Because I know there are a lot of you out there who are afraid to step out of your box. Because I know there are women/men/moms/dads and everyone in between who need to sit back with a great glass of wine and enjoy an entertaining read. Because if I am not held accountable for removing myself from my pity party, I will end up in a reality TV induced coma. I also know that writing is and always has been a passion of mine that went neglected for a very long time. 

 And really...blogging is much cheaper than therapy.

If he came back, what would you do?

If you would have asked me 8 months ago, I wouldn`t have hesitated to say, yes, absolutely come back.  Let`s work it out.  However, I can forgive a lot of things but I will not forget the things that were said and done to me and more importantly, my kids.  His actions, his choices and the things that were said to me out of spite, pain, anger, and selfishness will always stay with me.  Those things don`t rule my life, but they absolutely have left a mark on my heart.   Looking back with a different perspective, I can honestly say that part of my life is over.  I have wonderful memories, 2 amazing kids and some very tough life lessons to take with me. My therapist asked me once if I met him now, would we date or would there be a connection and as much as it hurt, my heart and my head both said no.  I have come to realize that the life I was living was not mine or even ours.  It was his.  When he left, so did some other people in my life that I thought would have backed me up no matter what. This too was part of the healing process.  There comes a point when the damage is so deep, that unfortunately, the only option is to move forward.

You aren’t the first person to have their spouse leave…what makes you so special?

Absolutely nothing makes me more special.  I am unique…just like everyone else.  The difference is that I am not going to sugar coat my life anymore.  I lived a long time making the world believe that my life was perfect, because who wants to admit that it isn`t.  We are so afraid of what people will say or think that we become paralyzed.  Life isn`t perfect people…and it`s my decision to live with the knowledge that life doesn`t have to be perfect to be amazing.  I am simply not choosing to live that life anymore. 

Why don`t you blog more than once a week

I would love to be able to blog more than once a week.  However, I do work outside the home, have a part time home based natural therapy business, 2 children, family, friends and a gym membership (notice I did not say I actually went to the gym)   I try and write as much as I can, and as you can see from most of my posts, they come late at night when the house is quiet.

Will you tell us when you find someone special?

Maybe, maybe not lol. 

Have you had your rebound yet?          

Maybe, maybe not lol.

When do we get to hear the “sex and the city” details?

Probably never.  My mother reads this blog lol

How do you stay positive?

My children obviously are an amazing force in my life.  If you have read any of the past blog posts, you know exactly the kind of kids I have been blessed with.

My family, my friends, my work, the support of the people who follow the blog, my faith that the universe is bringing me to a place where I need to be, my own ability to realize I deserve to live a life that is full and inspiring…all these things give me the strength to keep the light in my soul burning.

Music is also a powerful force for me.  I of course have worn out my Adele CD but have really used a lot of different music as a way to allow myself to cry, grieve, to be angry and also to lift my spirit.  And I am happy to say, that I don`t really need my Adele CD much anymore.

One of my favourite songs that is on constant repeat is Mumford and Sons ``After the Storm``

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMsTSdHIJds

Here are some of the lyrics:

And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come

And I look up, I look up,

on my knees and out of luck, I look up.

Night has always pushed up day

You must know life to see decay

But I won't rot, I won't rot

Not this mind and not this heart, I won't rot.

And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.

And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.

Get over your hill and see what you find there,

With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew

I saw exactly what was true

But oh no more.

That's why I hold,

That's why I hold with all I have.

That's why I hold.

I won't die alone and be left there.

Well I guess I'll just go home,

Oh God knows where.

Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

Why won’t you tell the readers the details of what happened?

No matter what I say, people will always make assumptions about what really happened, because it`s much easier to judge someone else`s life than to take an honest look at their own.  That`s the short explanation.  However, I will say that our marriage was in desperate turmoil for quite some time before the official separation.  Pride, fear, hope, obligation kept us together much longer than was healthy really.  The decision to separate was not mine and I did what I could to salvage what was left.  While I held on with everything I had, he had already made up his mind about 6 months before he left and walked away for what he saw as a more exciting life.  End of story and beginning of a new journey.

When you get published, are you using your married name? 

The short answer…no.

Are you going to dedicate your book to your ex?

I am fully aware that without the total annihilation of my marriage, I wouldn`t be blogging, writing or possibly publishing at all, but no. 

How are your kids doing?

My kids endure their struggles and come out the other side ok…sometimes more than ok.  They are learning that their feelings matter.  They are learning that they can speak their minds in regards to the way they feel about their dad`s actions.  They are also learning that love and family mean so much more than any material item. The three of us together have created such a powerful and loving circle that we, without a doubt, know that family is what matters the most.

Would you ever get married again?

Sure…now accepting applications.

Are the things that happen in your blog posts true?

Absolutely…100%.  Lucky for me I attract crazy.

What has helped you through the toughest times?

That`s a hard question because it varies.  Friends, family, meditation, putting myself out into the world alone even when it scares me to death…lots of things have gotten me through.  The ability to know that being alone doesn`t have to be lonely.  The ability to know that feeling lonely is ok too.

What has been the hardest thing so far?

Aside from picking up the pieces of a shattered heart and the hearts of my children and being able to move on you mean.  There have been a lot of difficult things to deal with:  finances, custody agreements, self-esteem rebuilding, navigating the new world of water softener salt, dating, living a whole new life.  One of my challenges was the coming to terms with the fact that I thought things were going to be ok.  That it was just a bump in the road to growing old together.  That even though things had been rough I honestly believed we could get through it.  We had an amazing marriage for a very long time and to come to terms with the end has been hard.  Like most people, I denied what was happening and chose not to see our marriage for what it was or who he was now. I denied what I knew was going on and I second guessed my instinct when `friends` assured me that all was well.  Trusting myself and knowing that I did everything I could and this was not my issue, but his, was easier than I thought it would be.  Coming to terms with the realization that this is my life now has been a little more challenging but not impossible.  That people are going to unfairly judge my life and there`s nothing I can do about it has downright sucked, especially in a small town.  Letting go of the feelings of guilt because I can move on and should move on while actually breathing, living and finding me again was a struggle but definitely empowering.  But if I were to be totally honest and I always am, it`s going to be the ability to let someone into my life again.

Today is the day I might just let some walls down.

Sweaty is the new sexy right?

I am currently on day 5 of dealing with a wicked cold that knocked myself and my youngest right on our behinds. 

So when I realized that the fridge was bare and I had to pick up my prescription, I knew that I would have to venture out into real world and get some necessities.  Single life has its perks.  Being sick and disgusting and single and having to go out to pick up necessities, is not one of them.

Let me set this up for you.  Picture this…

Day 5 of a head/chest cold that is not getting any better.

Every facial orifice is dripping, leaking and running.

Lips are chapped and red.

Have not showered in two days (don’t judge, you’ve been there)

Hair looks like a cross between a troll and a greasy homeless man.

Sweating like a pig in a bacon factory.

Coughing like a 90 yr. old chain smoker.

Of course I am ready to go out to the drug store and grocery shopping!

Decisions, decisions…get fully dressed, partially dressed, go in pajamas?

Ok…I keep my pajama top on, no I didn’t put on a bra (again, don’t judge me…you ladies have been there) pull on some fleece “athletic” pants and a sweater to hide the fact that I am braless in a pajama top.  Ok…not too bad.  However, there is no hairband, hairbrush, or sheep shearers that will take care of my hair issue.  What luck…I have a hat.

Ready to go, slightly sweaty because let’s be honest, it’s the most activity I have had in days.  Fleece “athletic” pants tucked into fugly brown boots, puffy coat to hide the drooping girls and a hat on top of the greasy mess of hair I am currently sporting.  A glance in the mirror tells me to get out and get home asap.

The trip to the pharmacy was quick and painless.  A quick chat with my favourite pharmacy tech and my favourite drug store supervisor, and I am out the door without incident.  Now…grocery store and I am home again under my blankets on the couch.

I zipped my coat right up to hide the pajama top, hat pulled down low to hide the troll hair and gum to hide the “sick breath”.  I had brushed my teeth before I left, but I had serious doubts.

Manouvering my way through the store, grabbing the items on my list, I am feeling pretty good.  Sweaty, but good. 

As I hit the cracker aisle, I am starting to feel a little light headed.  And sweaty, very sweaty.  Even the crackers are starting to annoy me.  In my mucous induced pity party, I am starting to think I should just leave the cart and go home.

When all of a sudden, I hear some asshole in the next aisle whistling “Lady Antebellum”.  It really started to get to me.  I don’t know about you, but when I am sick, noise seems amplified.  This whistling shit head was one chorus away from having a bag of goldfish crackers jammed down his throat.  Thankfully, he stopped…maybe another shopper got to him before I did.  Regardless, I tossed my crackers into the cart and headed to the granola bars.

I get to the aisle I am looking for and there is some bitch with her cart parked in the middle of the aisle so no one can get through.  If that isn’t bad enough, she’s lecturing her husband on his need for more fibre because and I quote “I am sick and tired of listening to you grunt and groan in there because you refuse to eat a little fibre!”  And I am the single one…makes no sense to me at all.

My last stop at the store, haven’t seen anyone I know, thankfully, and I can actually hear my couch calling my name.  As I am standing there, staring at the granola bars in a ibuprofen induced cold coma, sweating, hoping my puffy coat covers my drooping boobs, I hear someone call my name.

No, not hallucinating…it’s not my couch.  Shit…do I casually walk away, pretending I didn’t hear?  Too late…the dreaded tap on the shoulder. 

I turn around and come face to face with a guy from highschool that had a “thing” for me.  Great…just great.

As I am turning around, he’s saying “It’s so great to see…” his voice trails off.  Then I hear a weak little “you.”

I mumble something about being sick, not wanting to stand too close so I don’t spread any germs and something about the price of granola bars. 

He then goes on to say “Wow, you look great…a little warm, but great.”

What was your first clue genius…the sweat mustache I am currently wearing or the fact that the collar of my coat is drenched. 

We make conversation short and I head for the checkout as fast as I can.  The checkout girl is perky and annoyingly chatty.  I start coughing just so I don’t have to talk to her.

As I leave the store it’s windy and raining.  I immediately unzip my puffy down jacket and let the cold air dry the back of my neck. 

I load up the car, roll the window down, stick my head out a la Ace Venture style and let the rain wash away the snot currently running out of my nose. 

I am such a catch J

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