Last weekend, I got walking strep-throat (yes, just like walking pneumonia). No, it was not medically diagnosed, nor does it even exist on WebMD, but I'm certain that's what it is. I worked all week (the constant reading out loud did NOT help the situation) and felt like hell, but didn't think it was worth it to spend 3 hours writing lesson plans and hoping everything would go well with a substitute. I came home from school on Friday and crashed on the couch, People magazine in hand, and didn't move until I dragged myself into bed a few hours and bad TV re-runs later. Tim left Friday night to go on an overnight fishing trip to San Clemente Island on our neighbor's boat, The Horizon, out of San Diego Harbor.
Saturday morning I woke up still feeling sick, but I was determined to get through as much grading as possible. However, USA was having a Law and Order: SVU marathon, so of course that trumped analyzing thesis statements and underlining inaccurate evidence. I had never seen the show before, but that didn't stop me from becoming completely and unnecessarily immersed in the world of Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson, the two fictional New York detectives on-hand for any sexually-charged crime or offense NBC can stir up. It was the perfect sick day: 4 cups of weak coffee, a comfortable couch, and a bad but nevertheless engrossing TV show that didn't stop (seriously, I kept telling myself I would only watch one more episode, and then another would start, and no one could explain why the woman was found dead in the park, and...). Tim got home, exhausted, around 11 after a successful outing, and watched the last 30 minutes of the final episode with me. Most of the time, the scripts are entirely predictable and mediocre at best; Tim was able to call the shots before the detectives were. However, he didn't say a single negative word about it; he must have been silently thanking the powers that be I wasn't watching Lifetime.
Today, we took Bailey to the vet and, 300 dollars later, left with 2 antibiotic prescriptions, an ear collar, fish oil pellets, and a shaved and freaked out dog. Apparently, he is allergic to fleas, thus prompting his frequent itching, scratching, and hot spots. And then, our computer crashed, and now the geek squad at Fry's is doing what they do best, but have also told us the computer is finished and they may or may not be able to retrieve the files. And of course, they had all kinds of great questions to help us understand that, yes, this was a long time coming and, basically, we're idiots: Why didn't we back-up pictures and files using an external hard drive? Why did I leave iTunes open all night so the memory virtually fried? Why are we still using an IBM ThinkPad, which came out on the market about the same time as a record player?
And I haven't even done my freakin' taxes yet!
Sometimes it's hard to be a grown-up. I remember being 9 years old, FURIOUS my parents wouldn't let me stay up until 9:30 to watch Doogie Howser, M.D., and SWEARING I would let my own kids watch Doogie Howser when they were 9. My biggest problems consisted of deciding which Littlest Pet Shop toy I would buy with my week's allowance, figuring out how I would give my steamed carrots to the dog without Mom noticing, and getting to sit on the blue couch instead of the itchy, tan one while Paul and I watched Are You Afraid of the Dark? on Saturday nights. John Mayer sings,
"...and most my memories
have escaped me
or confused themselves with dreams
if heaven's all we want it to be
send your prayers to me
care of 1983..."
But that feeling is fleeting, and I know it. I'm overwhelmed, and tired, and ready for spring break. Because above it all, I'm happy, and fulfilled, and grateful. And I agree with my pal Jimmy Buffett:
"Oh, yesterday's over my shoulder
So I can't look back for too long
There's just too much to see waiting in front of me
And I know that I just can't go wrong"
"Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes"
And besides, I act like a kid about half the time anyway...
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