Without fail, the same thing happens at or around this time of the year.
I went to bed last Saturday, looking forward to the fun to come the following day. Greg and I were going to go to Casino Rama to see Sebastian Maniscalco.
I woke up, looked over to Greg who was also just waking up, and open my mouth to say “Hi Baby.” What came out of my mouth was a scratchy, hoarse, barely audible whisper.
Ah damnit. Not now.
What’s more is the fact that my stomach kinda hurt too. So I thought I’d unleash my counterattack- gravol and Tylenol. The combo knocked me out.
Greg came in and made me tea, rubbed my back, and overall just did what he could to make me feel better. Before I knew it, I was drowsily stumbling into the shower. It was 1:30pm and we had to start moving along.
When we eventually got to Casino Rama, I was an utter and complete Zombie. Greg did his best to tell jokes and make me laugh, but it wasn’t happening.
He patiently continued to hold my hand, tell corny jokes, and give me hugs and kisses.
When we eventually sat down to watch the show, I laughed and I laughed hard. Thank goodness I was sitting. The act of laughing was so exhausting to me that I’m sure I’d have fallen over if I was standing.
A week has passed. This whole week at work was exhausting, but I made it through. Today I’m feeling slightly better. You know how you feel ok during the day, but when you wake up in the morning you sound like a chain smoker? Yeah, that’s where I’m at.