(Firstly: Is If I Die Tomorrow REALLY by Motley Crue? It doesn't seem like one of their songs at all.)
Good morning.
February is Heart Month. The grass on the lawn is still green and the devil still seems to have a key to my house.
Also? I have a very bad cold.
Caleb is winning the war and sadly right this second I don't care, preferring to wish away the stabbing pain behind my left eye. It always hurts behind my left eye during flight landings and when I swim underwater too far below the surface. I'm guessing any minute now my head will explode in a big riot of confetti consisting of miserable blog paragraphs, hair metal lyrics, brightly-lit LEDs, the nutritional breakdown of Lucky Charms and still photographs of Tom Hardy.
Or something ridiculously similar.
Anyway, Caleb thinks it's exceedingly amazing that I never spent a dime of his money. I don't think he thought it would accumulate either. He yelled this at me this morning the second we returned from taking the children to school and his voice cracked to bits all through it and I looked up sharply and wondered how he got sick. Satan doesn't get sick, hell, Satan can leap through a tornado and still come out the other side looking like a young Montgomery Clift only far hotter and more contemporary.
Words? I didn't pay attention to his words. I told you I am sick.
Everyone is sick and you can't wage a war when you're reaching for kleenex and constantly checking out on Nyquil.
Or maybe you can. Ben calls it the war of motherfucking indifference in that for now it's on hiatus, and we will get back to it as soon as our energies return. Of course, lately we seem to recoup all of our energies just in time for a new round of germs to hit the house but that seems to be par for the course when you move from one city to another. At least for the first few years.
So, yeah. That's pretty much the extent of my comprehension level today. The lawyers have the day off, the stereo is silent, the children are the only healthy people in the whole house and for the stalkers who must.record. every. detail, I did spend a whole day with Ben's old iphone and sadly between iTunes still professing its hatred for me and the last iOS update that did something to his battery, I decided ringtones I can hear easily and a battery life greater than 30% when I head out the door in the morning needed to win out over playing Grimm and the possibility of a GPS that actually tells me were to turn. Until Thursday night, when I will wish madly for the GPS, that is. But then again, what good is that GPS when 4.2.1 broke the battery on the phone (conspiracy....YES) and I'm rambling.
Clearly I'm delirious and the Nyquil is finally wearing off so I think I'll just take more and go back to bed. Wake me when the fight is back on. Or when he goes home, because his son is sitting in a grade four classroom up the road coloring in a Haida killer whale, so really Caleb can go back to whatever hole he crawled out of don't you think?
I'm going to crawl back in mine.
(But not before Daniel makes me point out that YOU TOO need a designer hammer for the low low price of $38. What the fuck. Haha. Goodnight.)
