Morning Fog


on February 8, 2008

The attack of the kid crud has been successfully launched, and I am officially sick. I am in good company for sure. The other first grade teacher is sick, and at least one of the Kinder teachers is too. The computer teacher went home sick the other day.

I sometimes get the feeling that we are like race horses, only instead of watching for who will win, place or show — people are cheering us on and placing bets on who will get sick this week.

Or not.
Probably not, actually.

Yesterday I literally had zero voice. I took attendance by whispering, and every single one of those 23 little angels whispered back. I could eat them up I tell you, every single one of them.

Today I had a raspy, limited voice. It was functional even if I sounded a bit like I belonged in a tank at Sea World. But the drippy nose, sore throat and a bit of congestion joined the fun. Yippee.

This morning I went on a wild goose chase before school to get Sudafed. Real Sudafed…the kind you have to sign your life away for because the stupid Meth dealers had to go and ruin Sudafed for the rest of us. But I couldn’t find an open pharmacy at time of morning. I had to settle for the less attractive to Meth dealers reformulation, so while I was at it I sprang for the one with the cough formulation too. What the hell, live dangerously. I’m already sick.

Anyway, I made it through the day. I begged the computer teacher for a make-up class, and they had music. That took care of an hour and a half.

I hate being sick. But I have to confess that I am surprised that I made it this far into the year without getting sick before now. I was starting to feel invincible, so I am sure this is God’s way of slapping me back down a notch.

We watched a good movie tonight…3:10 to Yuma. I am not usually a big fan of Westerns, but as I age, I’m starting to notice the cowboys and finally realize they are the main event and the story was really secondary all along, wasn’t it? So two thumbs up for plenty of rugged, testosterone-laden entertainment. Dusty guys who wore boots, spoke with a twang and needed a shave didn’t thrill me when I was younger. Not so sure they would thrill me in person even now, but from a distance, I am learning to appreciate. I think there were gruesome bullet wounds and cold-blooded murder going on, but I was too distracted to pay any mind.

As you can see, things are way too exciting for words around here, so I think I’ll end right there before you get so overstimulated that you can’t calm yourselves.


One response to “Crud

  1. l'empress says:

    My oldest daughter now says she wants a cowboy hat — with a cowboy inside. I’m still reminded of all the guys she liked years ago, and I just said, “they look as if they would smell bad.”

    Sorry about your cold; all you can do now is treat the symptoms and try to keep your strength up. But what about Airborne, the medication “invented by a schoolteacher” who was tired of catching whatever the kids had. It’s not my personal preventative, but I’ve been told it does work.

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