And not to be one of the many internet complainers who have nothing to say except barely veiled references to their never-ending litany of complaints (ie: "Good thing I brought my extra strength Tylenol today"), but I think Mr gave me Strep Throat.
Hopefully it will be Girl Strep Throat, and not Boy Strep Throat. (You know what I'm saying, I can see you nodding your head.)
I also may or may not be typing this without my shirt, because I'm too tired to move my arms to the right by a few inches and grab it.
Probably not.
Since we had Jane's Meatball Subs in the slow cooker yesterday, bubbling merrily along when we got home for supper, I was happy.
And they were good. Next time, I'm browning and crispifying (<--- totally a word) before I put them in the slow cooker, but they were good to come home to.
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Puke break. Which turned into "lie on the couch moaning" break, which turned into "go back to bed while Mr takes the kids to daycare and then get up and go to the doctor break.
I'm fine. It might or might not be Strep. I'm going to work soon.
That is all.
(The puking had nothing to do with Jane's Meatball Subs).
