It's 2° outside. Two. The high is expected to be twelve. *Sigh* This morning, in addition to escorting the trash bags waaaaaay out to the trash cans, I have to check and fill the fluids in the van, and read the water meter. The last activity means kneeling down in the snow, if I can get the lid off the hole wherein the meter lives, and trying to view those tiny numbers on the meter far below the surface. Did I mention it's 2° outside?
I still trying to close out my day yesterday, around 3 a.m. when today started. My young nephew and his little sister came for a sleepover last night, as they didn't have school today. Teacher in-service training . . . always on a Monday this year. Are they in training or are they just avoiding Mondays? If it's the latter, I can't blame them. I'm having a "Monday" kind of day. Anyway, just as I was getting ready to go to sleep I heard my nephew get off the couch and hurry toward my room, or more importantly the bathroom. He was pale and bleary-eyed and pukey. Yup. He hurried into the bathroom, half awake, and threw up. Three times. At 3 a.m. After the outflow stopped, I got him settled back down with a sip of 7-up and a wet washcloth for his forehead. I tried to go back to bed, because I knew 7 a.m. was just around the corner, but I couldn't sleep. I texted his mother the news, and then tossed and turned for another hour. I finally drifted off to semi-sleepfulness around 4:15 a.m. and then the alarm began to ring at 6:00 a.m. and the text-messaging app pinged. His mother got my message. "Fine. No fever. No more vomiting. Oh, wait . . . yup, there he goes again. No. He'll be fine." I tried to drift off to sleep again, but by that time his little sister was up. When her brother reached for the trash basket next to the couch and leaned over, she bolted for my room holding her mouth. I suddenly found her taking up space in my bed.
Some Mondays start off better than others. This wasn't one of them. Since I couldn't get back to sleep, I decided to cook. I know, what else would I do? Bacon, scrambled eggs, toast for my mother; bacon, eggs, vegetable juice for me; pancakes and bacon for little sister; a cup of Jell-O and a saltine cracker for the pukey one.
Now I get to go outside. At least it's not -5° outside, which was the reading on the thermometer when this Monday began. Did I mention the ten-mile ride on the exercise bike felt like thirty and my legs were weighted down with invisible blocks of concrete?
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