My Turn

I'm sick and tired of being sick.

And of my children being sick.

It means we're the pariahs of playgroups and can't go anywhere except when absolutely necessary for survival. The Rosita has taken to scavenging for food. The Dude lives off a diet of applesauce, yogurt, and crackers with a random fishstick.

It means I've had minimal contact with friends for a month. It means we're starting to chat with the walls just to relieve boredom. It means that my head is about to explode from a combination of sinus pressure and whining leaving the aforementioned walls covered with a lot of blood and some snot.

At least it will give them something new to talk about.